


Frozen

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Angst, Drama, Family, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, frozen, permanent hiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: Read-at-your-own-risk, an unfinished "Frozen" AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

"Psst. Cooper."

"Mm."

"Cooper. Wake up."

Cooper rolled onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head and pointedly ignoring the hand tugging at the blankets on top of him. It was bad enough that he had to get up at sunrise every day for a fortnight to greet the lords and ladies from the neighboring lands; waking up before sunrise on his day off was unthinkable.

Consoling himself with the thought that the nobility would retire to their own towns for the remainder of the summer in another week, Cooper dragged his blankets more firmly around his shoulders as Blaine tugged them back, striving to unearth him from his cocoon. "Go away," he groaned, rolling over and savoring the surprised yelp as his younger brother toppled to the floor.

"It's sunrise, Cooper!"

"Which means annoying little brothers should still be in bed or else the snow yeti will devour them."

He could almost see Blaine's pout as he climbed on top of his back and insisted, "Snow yetis aren't real. Mama told me. She says you're a liar."

Cooper let out an exasperated sigh as Blaine settled on top of his shoulders, lying down on top of Cooper's pillow and waiting eagerly to be attended. "The sun's up, Coop. I wanna go play. Oh! Oh! Can we build a snowman?"

He was practically bouncing with excitement, which Cooper tolerated for about eight seconds before rolling over with an impressive - if muted; the last thing he wanted was for his parents to barge in and remind him how undignified it was for the prince of Arendelle to roll around like a savage beast - before tackling a shrieking Blaine to the carpet.

"No, Coop, no!" Blaine wailed, delighted, as Cooper lifted him into the air and slung him over one shoulder, pounding his fists against Cooper's back. "Put me down, put me down!"

Cooper carried him out onto his balcony, pushing open the expansive windows overlooking the north side of the mountain and hiking Blaine up over one shoulder as he continued to flail. "Lemme go, put me down!"

Transferring Blaine to both hands and dangling him over the ledge playfully - legs kicking all the while - he drawled, "I warned you, Blainey."

"Coop!"

Letting his grip loosen playfully, he swung Blaine back around at the last second, earning another round of elated giggles as Blaine tugged on his hand insistently. "Come on, come on, we have to do it before Mama and Papa get up."

Cooper let himself be dragged back into his room, closing the balcony doors behind him and almost tripping over his own feet in the process. "All right, all right, easy," he chided, picking Blaine up under the shoulders again and putting him on his shoulders instead. "Excitable little tyke, aren't you?"

"Are we gonna build a snowman?" Blaine asked as they descended the stairs.

"Only if you're quiet," Cooper warned, leading them into the empty ballroom two floors below and putting Blaine down before shutting the doors behind them.

Clad in his dark blue pajamas with its monogrammed silver collar and cuff links and a pair of bright white socks, white hair still slightly disheveled from sleep, Cooper knew that he must have been a sight to see, the future prince of Arendelle corralling his younger brother, a silver-and-blue blur across the floor.

Conjuring a snowball in one hand, Cooper lobbed it at the back of his head, grinning in triumph as it spattered magnificently against his dark curls. "Not fair!" Blaine said, yelping as Cooper tossed a snowball at his face instead. "Cooper!"

"All right, all right," he conceded. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he shot a snowball toward the ceiling, leaning back to watch it shatter just underneath the massive chandelier into a hundred thousand snowflakes as Blaine clapped in approval, reaching up to capture them as they fell.

Grinning to himself as he folded his arms and watched his own handiwork in action, Cooper took a step forward, ice spreading out from each step as Blaine looked over at him and beamed. "This is amazing!" he said, all wide-eyes and snow-flake freckled curls.

"This is nothing," Cooper said, pleased in spite of himself as he rubbed his palms together. He knew that he wasn't supposed to perform magic unless he could help it, but it was worth the awestruck expression on Blaine's face to create a little fun for both of them. Cooper spent most of his days learning everything he needed to know in order to successfully assume the throne one day, and Blaine was often tied up trying to make friends while Cooper was away, so the moments that they had together were fleeting but precious. Blaine looked at Cooper as if he'd descended straight from one of the fairy tales that he loved to read, a white knight, a gallant king.

It was validating to be seen as so important.

And while Blaine might get on his nerves frequently, Cooper knew that he didn't do it out of spite.

He just wanted to be less lonely in their too-big, too-empty home.

Looking over at him, covered in snow as he sprawled on the floor and made snow angels, Cooper drew up his shoulders and, with a dramatic turn of his wrist, watched as a beam of white light struck the nearest snowbank and melded the pieces into a stout snowman. "Hey," Blaine whined, sitting up and observing the snowman with a pout. "I wanted to help."

"You can name him," Cooper said, dusting off his lapels and watching Blaine's brow furrow in concentration as he approached the snowman cautiously. It was taller than he was - not that Blaine was very tall to begin with.

Cooper suspected that, while he may have inherited their father's towering stature, Blaine was more likely to take after their mother. Petite, friendly, all warm smiles and warmer hugs, she was easy to get along with, unlike their father, whose sole mission in life appeared to be making Cooper's miserable.

"Kings do not play with magic," was his favorite phrase, closely followed by, "No son of mine will disgrace this kingdom."

He had good intentions, Cooper supposed, if one looked at the rest of the kingdom's nobility. The ladies could be reasoned with, but the lords tended to be irascible and, behind curtains, cutthroat. Arendelle's wealth was a powerful incentive, keeping her at the heart of trade, but it also meant alliances and betrayals were constantly afoot. Even though their neighbors were nothing but cordial on the surface, there were still those that sought to shift the powers permanently to a new residence, and Cooper knew that being equally ruthless and clever among them was the only way to maintain Arendelle's status.

It was all for the greater good, of course, that no one else knew about Cooper's powers outside of the family. Magic was unusual, rare historically and even rarer at the present, and by exposing it, Cooper risked jeopardizing their relationships with the other towns. If he could keep it hidden, then no one would suspect that the winter storms blowing through from time to time were, in fact, Cooper's creation, a political scheme to thwart traders often battling the elements in order to survive economically. It was too risky to assume that they would believe the truth: Cooper had never done anything of the sort, confining his powers to the ballroom where he and Blaine could, for a little time, at least, be free to have their fun.

"Sam," Blaine chirped, reaching out to shake the snowman's stick-hand formally, smiling as he turned back to Cooper and elaborated, "his name's Sam."

"Sam," Cooper echoed, nose scrunching in spite of himself. "A peasant name?"

"He's not a peasant!" Blaine quipped, affronted, as he wrapped his arms protectively around the snowman. "He's my friend."

Cooper made a doubtful noise at that, frowning at him. "You need real friends, Blaine."

If anything, Blaine clung harder to the snowman's shoulders, expression unreadable from Cooper's angle. Letting out a sigh and accepting defeat, Cooper advanced toward him and gave him a nudge away from 'Sam.' Sitting behind the snowman, he held out its stick arms and asked in an exaggeratedly deep voice, "Would you be my friend, Prince Blaine?"

Blaine's response was immediate and enthusiastic: he threw himself at the snowman, hugging it tightly and insisting, "Yes! Yes!"

Laughing, Cooper peeled him carefully off the snowman as it sagged helplessly, flicking his fingers to restore it to its original form. "Come on," he said, hitching him over one shoulder again. He would miss the days when he could do it; he couldn't imagine how he was supposed to contain Blaine's energy once he was older. Maybe he'd mellow out once he realized how boring politics were. Or maybe he'd just have to start dragging Cooper around once Cooper lost the will to do so.

"Can we slide first?" Blaine pleaded, clinging to his shoulder as if he could hold Cooper in the moment a little longer. As soon as they stepped into the main hallway again, they'd be forced to act their parts, Cooper as dutiful heir-to-the-throne and Blaine as unobtrusive (yet, undoubtedly, underfoot) little brother. Hesitating at the door, Cooper could sense the anticipation building underneath Blaine's little shoulders before he said, "Once."

Once inevitably meant as many times as Blaine's little legs could carry him to the top of the snowdrift that Cooper constructed for him, letting out a shriek of pure, unadulterated joy every time he slid down the slope and onto the floor. "Again," he'd insist, breathless and already scrambling to summit the pile once more, even as Cooper's arms began to ache, a slow smile forming on his lips in spite of himself.

He might not be young enough to indulge in snow-slides anymore, but it was still fun to watch Blaine let go and enjoy himself.

"Come on, squirt," he insisted, hoping to tire him out enough that he might be able to catch a quick nap of his own before their parents awoke and demanded that he make an appearance for, well, appearance's sake. The heir to the throne had to be present at all public functions, after all, even those he didn't wish to be present at, and especially on his supposed days off.

Giggling, too giddy to notice, Blaine took off in the opposite direction and insisted, "Up, Cooper!" and Cooper unthinkingly obliged, firing off a snow step for him to land on as he leaped into the air, ever trusting. The game continued for almost a minute as Blaine climbed higher and higher, almost to the ceiling four stories above them as he raced along.

"Slow down!" Cooper warned, and then, more urgently: "Stop!"

Too late. Blaine leaped and Cooper slipped on the ice underneath himself, his mind blanking in horror as he fired off another shot unthinkingly.

Blaine didn't make a sound as it struck him in the head, crumpling in a noiseless heap at the base of the demolished snowbank.

Oh God, Cooper thought, scrambling back to his feet. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"Blainey?" he said, kneeling beside him and jerking back when he saw the white streak in his hair, nestled neatly among the formerly all-black curls. Swallowing back his pride, urgent with terror, he reached out to shake him and had to swallow back bile instead when he realized how cold his skin was.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and it was all Cooper's fault, and he would never forgive himself for it if Blaine was -

"Mother!" he shouted, scooping Blaine into his arms and huddling him to his chest as he burst into the main hallway, racing toward their parents' room. "Father!"

In that moment, he didn't care what punishment his parents might contrive to deal with his recklessness.

He just needed them to fix Blaine.

* * *

"What were you thinking?"

Even though he had been expecting it, Cooper still flinched from the remonstrance, whip-quick and remorseless on his father's lips. "He needs help," he said firmly, cutting his father's tirade off before it could begin, his mother's brow pinched with concern as she looked between the two of them for answers, Blaine still limp and frozen in Cooper's arms, their father tense and unyielding at her side. "Banish me, denounce me, do whatever you please, but he needs help," he insisted.

His father's eyes were dark, foreboding, and for a moment Cooper thought that he would have to force his way past him to track down a nurse that might be able to help Blaine before he grunted and made a sharp gesture with his chin, leading them back toward his chambers. "Come quickly."

Neither Cooper nor his mother protested. His father moved with the sort of easy grace that befell a king of many years; he rooted through the books on his shelves, long angular lines accentuated by the tall, imposing figure of his father before them.

At last pulling a volume from a stack of a dozen similar tomes, he brushed off the cover and set it down on his wooden desk, flipping to the cover and pulling out a well-worn map.

"You will speak of this to no one," he warned Cooper, his gaze flicking to his wife briefly before adding, "nor will you."

"On my honor," Cooper said, deciding formality was best when dealing with his father (even though a king listens to no one was ready on his tongue; he wasn't king yet, he had to remind himself, and the cold weight in his arms was reminder enough to be serious).

His mother nodded in affirmation, which must have been sufficient for the king as he drew in a deep breath and, visibly bracing himself for their response, said, "The trolls will have the answers we need."

"Trolls?" Cooper repeated, unable to help himself, even as Blaine's weight seemed to grow heavier in his arms by the second, his breathing so shallow it was barely perceptible. "Surely you don't mean actual trolls. There's no such thing."

His father fixed him with a hard gaze, a split-second rebuke that bowed Cooper's head even as his mother said quietly, "How far are they?"

"Not far," his father replied, turning to Cooper and fixing him with an unreadable stare. "Tell the servants to ready our horses."

Cooper nodded and, without a word, turned to do so, leaving his parents alone in their chambers.

Holding Blaine closer to his chest, he breathed out slowly, willing him to hang on long enough for his father's plan to work. He can fix it, he told himself, refusing to believe that Blaine was dying. He'll have his - trolls. Fix it.

He had to believe it because the alternative was unthinkable.

And as he huddled deeper in his own cloak, seated on his horse and willing every clopping step to pass more speedily, he couldn't help but ache at the awareness that if Blaine died, it was on his hands.

I should never have put him in danger.

The thought chased him well into the night as they rode and rode and rode, seemingly endlessly on, searching for answers he didn't know existed to a problem he didn't know could be solved.

I'm sorry, he chanted, grateful and painfully aware that his mother had taken charge of Blaine as soon as they were ready, knowing that he had put him in his present state. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Even more so than his doubt, the anguish followed him every step of the way.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your trolls are rather shy, aren't they?"

It was the most rational thing that Cooper could think to say, scanning the clearing with expectant eyes and feeling his heart sink when he realized that no one was there. They had ridden into the mountains for this?

His father didn't deign to respond; Cooper didn't even know why he felt disappointed as he searched around the boulders for any sign of life. Perhaps his troll-friends were shy and simply waiting for confirmation that they meant no harm. Or maybe they didn't exist at all. The possibility of the latter was unbearable, so Cooper forced his attention back to the present, turning to face his parents as his father advanced into the center of the clearing, footsteps light, almost inaudible.

"I need your help," he said in a deep, surprisingly sonorous voice. The commanding tone seemed at odds with their setting, Cooper's nerves riled up as he rubbed his arms and waited anxiously for a response. Pacing around the mossy clearing without heed to the twigs crackling under his boots, he scanned their surroundings for any sign of life.

Close to a thicket of trees, their horses whickered impatiently, clearly uneasy, and Cooper crossed the distance between them, holding the reins. "Easy," he told the closest mare, scratching her chin. "It's okay."

He couldn't say the same for Blaine, still cradled in their mother's arms. Her mouth was still pinched worriedly, anxiety almost palpable, but Cooper knew that if his father couldn't fix it, no one could.

He can fix it, he told himself firmly. If nothing else, their father never failed to meet a challenge head on, and Cooper had rarely seen him walk away unsatisfied or, at the very least, placated.

Still, it seemed almost comical to him, watching the great man stand in the midst of silence, waiting for his trolls to appear. They're not real, he thought despairingly, as the seconds ticked on and the silence pervaded. He's delusional.

Just then, a rumbling began. It seemed to come from the earth itself as the boulders vibrated with the sound. Rather than panicking, the horses merely shied away from the circle as Cooper let go of the reins. He couldn't help himself; even familiar with his own magic, he was still amazed that other, even more elusive magic existed in the world.

As one, the boulders turned over, revealing stout, androgynous trolls of various sizes. Only their mossy garb, accentuated by leaves from neighboring trees, stood out against their rocky skin.

Cooper gaped openly at the sight, grunting as a smaller boulder rumbled underfoot, knocking him clean off his own. A distant pair of giggles had him twisting around, hand halfway to his sword hilt before he spotted a pair of wide-eyed children watching behind a mossy bank. Righting himself without sparing them a second glance, he looked to his father instead, thankfully distracted by a large troll with a massive mossy cloak.

"Can you fix it?" his father asked, blunt and to the point as ever.

"I'll see what I can do," the troll replied, equally gruff but somehow still more amicable. He waddled closer to Cooper's mother without waiting for a response from his father. As he neared them, Cooper stiffened, aware of dozens of troll eyes upon them both. "You must be the heir," the troll said, gazing up at him with kindly eyes. "The one with the magic."

Cooper gave a curt nod in acknowledgment, unsure how to proceed. "I am," was all he said. He felt strangely small next to the troll, despite topping him by at least four feet. Stepping back to allow him to approach Blaine and their mother, Cooper faded into the shadows as he watched the troll lay a hand on Blaine's forehead.

When he retracted it, a white light followed, connecting the two briefly before condensing into an orb held between the troll's hands. "This is powerful magic," he mused aloud, eyes closed, the light pulsing between his fingers. He seemed to mull it over for a moment, the other trolls patient and utterly still as they watched. When the troll opened his eyes a moment later, his irises were white, and Cooper stepped back in alarm before almost tripping over another tiny troll. The children in the shadows were silent at his second stumble; he couldn't blame them, enraptured by the spectacle unfolding before him.

"I don't have the power to reverse this," the troll said at last. A somber murmur passed through the crowd of trolls before silence befell them once more. Cooper felt sick, his ears ringing. It can't be fixed. He's going to die. Just as he was about to voice a plea to try something, anything, the troll continued, saying, "But I can diffuse it."

Spinning the orb between his hands, the troll closed his eyes again as flashes of memory skated across the orb's surface, each one coming faster than the last. "The magic has to be erased from his memories," the troll said, as images of snowdrifts in hallways vanished, replaced by natural fields covered in white. One moment Blaine and he were building a snowman in the ballroom; the next, constructing the same snowman outdoors, in a clearing not unlike the one they were currently in. Cooper watched, horrified, as every trace of his powers was erased in a similar fashion, replaced by more innocuous scenarios.

Feeling hollowed out and deeply uneasy, Cooper watched, silent, as the troll opened his eyes, blue once more, and reached out, resting a hand against Blaine's forehead.

There was a brief flash of white and then silence. The troll stepped back and Cooper crossed the distance between himself and his mother in three quick strides as Blaine whimpered and curled into her embrace, color already returning to his too-pale cheeks.

Just as Cooper reached out to scoop him up in a relieved embrace, his father said sharply, "Don't."

Cooper hesitated before turning to face him, brow furrowing in confusion.

Before he could open his mouth to say that he wasn't dangerous, the troll spoke again. "He's very weak. I've done everything that I can for him, but that doesn't mean he's out of danger yet."

I'm not dangerous, Cooper wanted to tell him. He's my brother.

Leveling a look at his father, daring him to protest again, he looked to his mother and pleaded quietly, "Please, I need to - "

I need to know he's okay. I need to know that I'm not a monster.

"Let me," he offered in his calmest, most rational voice.

"I wouldn't," the troll interposed, not unkindly.

Cooper turned to snap at him that he was fine when he noticed that there were tiny clouds of white evaporating from his hands. Dizzied, he staggered back and reached out to grab hold of the reins of the horses to steady himself and almost fell over when a thin coat of ice covered them. The horses whinnied in alarm as Cooper released the reins, wrapping his arms around himself instead.

"Your power grows stronger by the day," the troll explained, stepping toward him with a sort of fearless comfort that came from years of experience. Cooper held his ground, but he kept his arms folded, not daring to unleash an accidental flurry upon him. "You have to learn to control it."

"I can control it," Cooper snapped, unable to restrain himself, as he dropped his arms at his side, a circle of frost surrounding him as he did so.

The trolls startled back, the largest holding his ground and gazing up at him with sad eyes. "You're a good man," he said, "but it'll hurt you if you tempt fate. If you can't control your powers, then they will destroy you. Powerful magic like this isn't meant to be untamed."

Cooper didn't have a response. He could feel his father's eyes boring into him, and he half-wondered what the children on the other side of the hill thought of him. I'm not a monster, he wanted to tell them, but he couldn't make the frost go away.

"Thank you for your assistance," his father was saying, addressing the head troll as he ambled back over to him.

Bowing politely, the troll assured him, "Anything for the king's sons." He met Cooper's gaze on that last word, a sort of sad smile crossing his lips before he turned to the rest of the congregation. "He'll be fine," he assured them. "The prince has a strong heart."

It did not escape Cooper's notice that he never mentioned which prince he was referring to.

* * *

You will not speak of this to anyone.

The order had been surprisingly easy for Cooper to follow, given the fact that he'd been hiding his magic forever from the rest of the world. Even the thought of explaining that he had almost killed his little brother made his stomach twist, and by the time they arrived back at the castle, he was grateful that his parents were too caught up in their own plans to notice him as he quietly slipped away.

He locked the door behind himself and paced his room for hours, lost in his thoughts. He'd never had trouble controlling his magic before; he'd always been careful to stop whenever he got too excited, refusing to let himself get carried away. Of course, in the massive ballroom, it was hardly a problem if a small flurry turned into piles and piles of snowdrifts instead. That was half the charm: the unpredictability, the reckless, joyous abandon.

Curling his fingers around his elbows and wearing a hole in the carpet, he paced long after dark, not knowing what he would possibly say at the dinner table.

I'm sorry?

It felt wrong even in his mind because he'd never been sorry for his powers before. He liked being different, he liked that he could conjure snowflakes effortlessly, that he could create ice and snow and all manner of wintry weather in between with just a flick of his wrist. He liked the spontaneity, the release that it provided.

So much - too much - of his life was already out of his hands. He couldn't have this taken away, too.

Retiring early, he crawled under the sheets and stared at the ceiling until his thoughts began to blur and it was easy to lose himself to the comforting isolation of dreams.

\- Until a warm weight settled at his side, nestling closer until Cooper had no choice but to lift his arm and drape it over Blaine's back, hugging him close. His fingers curled in the sheets beside him, helpless and, if he dared to admit it to himself, afraid.

When Blaine started shivering, Cooper swallowed hard and slid out of bed carefully, scooping him into his arms and carrying him back to his own room.

From that night on, he learned to lock the door.

I won't hurt you, he swore silently. Never again.


	3. Chapter 3

Cooper hadn't slept in the same room as Blaine in years, so he knew that it wouldn't cause alarm when his few personal possessions vanished overnight. I can't be near him. Not until I get my powers under control.

He couldn't risk turning Blaine into an ice statue. He knew that the ice and snow melted on its own time, untouched, but he doubted the same principle applied to living creatures.

He had no desire to test out the theory. Better to isolate himself and risk Blaine's discontent than to accidentally kill him because his temper flared or his powers simply leaped out of his control.

I can do this. I've always done this.

Pacing the floor of his own room, a velvet cape draped over his shoulders, Cooper tried to wear the emotions down so that he could sleep and deal with the problem in the morning, to no avail. Before long, sunrise greeted him with fleeting white tendrils of light, accentuating the icy crystals forming in his wake.

Staring at the frost decorating the room, Cooper slid to the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands.

Stop it, he told himself sternly, as ice pooled around him, ringing the bedposts and butting up against the door. Stop it.

A knock on the door jerked him out of his concentration, snapping the cold spell as the ice retreated abruptly, leaving him almost cold in its wake, empty. Blinking, he was about to clear his throat when he heard Blaine's voice on the other side of the door, bright and unaffected.

"Coop?" The door shook as he tried the handle, knocking again a moment later. "C'mon, Cooper, wake up. I wanna go out and play."

Cooper dug his hands into his hair, trying to think of a plausible excuse that he could give him to keep him from coming back. In the end, he said nothing, Blaine's knocks growing impatient before he sighed and sat back against the door with a heavy flop.

He stayed for the better part of two hours, by Cooper's best count, humming to himself as he waited. Then one of the servants came along and informed him that his parents wanted to speak with him and Blaine dashed off with the sort of nervous excitement that only a six-year-old with their parents could possess.

And then Cooper was alone. Until his mother knocked on the door and, after asking quietly if she could come in, entered.

"I'm not a danger to him," were the first words out of Cooper's mouth. He didn't know why he felt the need to say them - of course he wasn't dangerous, of course not, Blaine was his brother - but he still felt defensive as he folded his arms across his chest, staring back at her.

She looked at him with sad, remorseful eyes. "We think it would be best if you stayed away from him for now," she said quietly. "At least until you have your powers under control." Given the look that she gave him then, he didn't need to ask to know that she knew they could be controlled as much as he did.

"Mama," he said, imploring, as he extended a hand and let snowflakes dance over its surface, spreading out into the room. "Mama, it's not dangerous. It was an accident, it won't ever - " He had to swallow, then, because he couldn't say the words. It won't ever happen again.

"Sweetheart, I know you mean well, but it's for the best. You're both young and it's easy to forget your own strength - "

"I won't hurt him." The words were quiet, but they silenced his mother as assuredly as a thunderclap would have.

"I know," she said at last. The silence hung heavy between them for a few moments longer before she drew in a deep breath to say, "But I need you to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt, either. Give it a few days. Once you've got them under control, you'll feel better."

She withdrew without another word, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Cooper clenched his hands into fists as soon as the door shut. He would never intentionally hurt Blaine. It had been an accident. A childish mistake that any sixteen-year-old could have made. They'd been playing. It wasn't like he'd lost control completely; he'd just been caught off guard.

Pacing to the window, he pressed his hands to the sill and almost fell over his own feet in his haste to get away as the entire frame froze, jagged spikes of ice protruding where his hands had been.

Stop it, he warned himself, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Get a hold of yourself.

When he realized that his hands wouldn't stop shaking, he tucked them under his arms and rose to his feet, pacing to the window and staring out at the bright, cheery landscape. When he looked down at the frozen windowsill, he had to close his eyes, feeling the gloom settle more deeply into his heart.

I can't let him know or I'll hurt him.

Drawing in a deep breath, he walked over to his door and quietly locked it once more.

* * *

"Coop?"

Blaine sidled up to Cooper's door, knocking three times before stepping back and waiting for his response. "I know you're in there," he chimed in, decisively filling the silence as it stretched on and on. Holding his hands behind his back, he rocked onto his heels, glancing up expectantly at the handle.

Knocking again, he waited for a response, humming softly to himself as he did so.

A full ten seconds passed before he pouted, about to retreat, before an idea came to mind and he leaned closer to the door, all but pressing against it.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" he called out in his best, brightest sing-song voice, knowing that Cooper could never resist the temptation. "Come on, come out and play!"

He held the pause long enough to realize that Cooper wouldn't join in, some of his enthusiasm deflating as he sat back against the door, huddling his knees against his chest. "Are you mad?"

He never got a response.

It took one of the servants two hours to find him; when she did, she scooped him up and carried him off to dinner.

Unbeknownst to Blaine, Cooper emerged mere minutes later, first peering into the hallway to confirm its emptiness before shuffling off to find food for himself.

He managed to avoid both Blaine and his parents during his brief perusal of the kitchens. For that, at least, he was grateful.

It's just until I get them under control, he assured himself, nibbling on a crust of bread and doing his best not to think about how he was supposed to explain to Blaine that he had powers that he couldn't control.

Powers Blaine no longer knew about.

He can't know about them, Cooper realized, as he stared out at the storm clouds gathering.

With a heavy heart, he locked the door, even though he didn't sleep at all once the knob started rattling a handful of hours later and a tiny, distant voice whimpered, "Coop, lemme in."

He closed his eyes and waited until the pleas stopped, and then he padded soundlessly to the door, eased it open, and with a sigh that felt wrenched from the deepest part of his chest, scooped Blaine into his arms and carried him back to his room.

Sliding the curtains shut to block out the storm, he made sure Blaine was still asleep before he sat down on the bed beside him, so, so careful.

As if drawn to him, Blaine shuffled closer, curled up at his side, still small enough that Cooper could easily drape an arm over his back without moving from his current position. He didn't; he couldn't bring himself to, not when the white lock of Blaine's hair was still stark against the naturally dark-brown curls.

He must have dozed off at some point, exhausted, because he awoke to a soft, "Cooper?" and a sleepy whine as the weight beside him shifted, breaths already deepening back to sleep. Blinking blearily, Cooper reached up to rub at his own eyes, back aching from being pressed against the headboard all night. He was at once aware of Blaine's fingers curled into his shirt, latched onto him as if he was some sort of oversized blanket, and it made his stomach twist to press the tiny fingers off the fabric and slide out of bed.

By sunrise, Blaine was awake and Cooper was gone.

* * *

Instead of being deterred, Blaine felt doubly determined to draw Cooper out of his self-imposed hermitage after a week had passed by with no changes. Blaine didn't see Cooper's silence as refusal. He knew it was a challenge, and so he focused his attention over the next month on a solution.

If he couldn't physically drag Cooper out of bed, then he could convince him to abandon his room by showing him how much better things were outside. The snows hadn't vanished yet, and Blaine was itching to run around in them and burn off some of the energy that he had. Being inside the castle all day left him feeling restless. He missed going out with Cooper and sledding down hills or playing on the frozen-over fjord and lobbing snowballs at each other or, best of all, making snowmen.

Good friends were few and far between for the Andersons in Arendelle, but it was easy to pretend with the snowmen that things were different.

So, skidding up in front of Cooper's room, almost breathless from his run from his own room to his brother's, Blaine drew in a deep breath and belted out, "Do you wanna build a snowmaaan? Come on, come out and play."

Leaning back against the door, he added in a softer tone, "I never see you anymore. Come out the door. It's like you've gone away."

"You shouldn't bother him," his mother chastised as she approached, startling him out of his sad reverie as he opened his mouth to protest before shutting it in defeated acquiescence.

"What's wrong with him, Mama?" he asked, desperate for answers and equally eager to fix whatever he had done wrong. Cooper wouldn't have stopped speaking to him entirely unless he'd done something.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, angel," she assured, picking him up and carrying him on one shoulder. "Sometimes people change. He just needs time."

Letting her carry him off, Blaine stared at the unopened door until it was out of sight, cushioning his cheek against her shoulder and willing the answers to come to him.

Nothing ever did.

* * *

Three months later, Blaine had turned seven and had two full verses of his plea complete. Growing up as a prince of Arendelle meant that he'd been exposed to all the best entertainment, and he'd always enjoyed the bards. He was nowhere near as good as they were, he knew, both because he wasn't a bard and his father had told him so on numerous occasions, but he was enthused about his work and pleased with himself at his own accomplishment.

Besides, he couldn't claim it was all his own: Cooper used to hum the tune all the time as he worked. All Blaine had needed to do was add the words.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" he entreated again, staring at the unyielding door. "Come on, come out and play." Sagging theatrically against the wall, he sang to the door, "I never see you anymore. Come out the door. It's like you've gone away."

Pushing himself off the wall, he stepped back, waiting for a response that he'd learned wouldn't come - and still, still couldn't keep himself from hoping it would - before sighing and adding even more softly, "We used to be best buddies, but now we're not. I wish you would tell me why?"

He dared to edge closer and press a hand to the door, hoping beyond hope that Cooper might respond. Adopting an even more enthusiastic tone at his silence, he continued, "Do you wanna be a snowmaaan?"

Then, inspired, he sang into the keyhole itself, "It doesn't have to be a snowman!"

"Go away, Blaine!" Cooper snapped, sharp and sudden.

Heart sinking to his toes, Blaine stepped back as if he'd been slapped, acknowledging sadly, "Okay, bye."

Cooper had had bad days when they had been closer, too. He refused to be discouraged by the outburst, regrouping at his own room - his own toys and imagination to keep him company - instead.

* * *

Six months had passed since the accident, and Cooper didn't know how many more he could take in relative isolation, confined to his room or the kitchens or, if he was lucky, meeting with lords and ladies and dukes when his parents allowed him.

"I can't keep living like this." Cooper felt caged, an animal unable to escape his own prison as he stared at his parents. His mother appeared sympathetic, her arms folded, her brow creased in a frown, but his father was unyielding, standing his ground firm with back straight and shoulders firm.

"You are a danger to everyone until you can get this under control," he said firmly, directing his last words at the ice that had transformed the room from an innocuous bedchamber into a frozen mirror of what it had been. Even the sheets were coated in a layer of frost. Cooper had never minded the cold, but the stiff pressure hardly meant a good night's sleep.

Unable to help himself - exhausted by being civil and being caged all in one - he bit out, "I can't control it. I won't ever be able to control it." Directing his attention to his mother, whose eyes were still soft with sympathy, he advanced toward her and pleaded, "Just let me tell him. I'll break it to him gently, I promise."

"Use these," his father said brusquely, interrupting him.

Cooper stared at the white gloves in his hand, peeled from his own fingers. "I couldn't," he said slowly.

"I insist," his father replied, meeting his eyes with a surprise amount of fierceness and pressing them against his palm. Cooper flinched back as if burned, clutching the gloves in his fist as his father stepped away once more. "I will not have my son reduced to an animal because of something out of his control. If you are able to conceal your powers, then you won't feel them." Straightening his own spine with the strength of his conviction, he added almost quietly, "You are my son. This is our problem as much as it is yours."

"Of course it is," Cooper laughed, a harsh, rueful tone to his voice that he couldn't contain. "You're the ones that could kill Blaine, is that it?"

Closing his eyes as if pained, his father said simply, "We could lose him if we are not able to contain this. Which is why I have a very vested interest in solving this problem." By the last word, his gaze was locked on Cooper's once more, refusing to let him go. "I will not lose Blaine, and I will not lose you, either. You are my sons. We will work through this. Keep practicing, use the gloves, and we'll see how it goes from there."

"It won't work," Cooper told them, not daring to approach either for any comfort - he'd forgotten what physical comfort was even like after six months of utter touch starvation, reduced to hugging himself and holding his own elbows for relief - when he knew all too well that his powers were more volatile than ever.

"It will if you will it enough," his father answered cryptically, shutting the door behind them.

Snarling his frustration, Cooper let a row of icicles erupt from the space where they had been, grateful for the temporary relief from the itching need to use the powers burning under his skin.

Conceal it, he thought, staring at the gloves in a cross between amazement and curiosity, don't feel it.

Pulling them over his fingers, he flexed them, breathed out slowly, and was able to sleep deeply for the first time in weeks as his bed unfroze and his thoughts finally drifted toward hope instead of despair.

He was so relieved not to feel the raw, aching awareness of his powers that he didn't notice that he forgot to lock his door after his parents.

When Blaine tiptoed in that night and settled on the bed beside him, Cooper couldn't find it in himself, still mostly asleep and starved for affection, to push him away. Instead he hugged him close, willing the gloves to work, and Blaine clung to him just as tightly.

Sunrise arrived all too soon, but he carried Blaine dutifully back to his room, locking the door behind himself once more as he breathed and focused on keeping his powers under lock-and-key.

Soon, he thought. Soon I'll be able to tell him.

* * *

Blaine's eighth birthday was a quiet affair, but he didn't let it dampen his spirits as he approached Cooper's door, certain that he would respond at last - at last - to his pleas.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" he called. Then, inspired, he added, "Or ride our bike around the halls?" He'd tried it himself and crashed several times spectacularly before getting the hang of it. Sailing down the empty ballrooms was fun, and he'd even braved the staircases for the sheer thrill of riding down them. Cooper would love it. He'd probably already done it, himself.

Unfazed by Cooper's silence, Blaine gazed up at the portraits on the walls and admitted to the closed door at his side, "I think some company is overdue, I've started talking to the pictures on the walls."

Sighing when he realized that the door wasn't going to open, he began to walk away, pausing a good ten paces away before adding dolefully, "It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms, just watching the time tick by." Glancing over his shoulder, he wheedled, "Don't you want to build a snowman?"

Silence was his only reply.

* * *

Cooper hadn't forgotten about Blaine's birthday. He struggled against the warring desires to stay in his room and emerge, triumphant, to declare that he had his powers under control.

With the gloves, I do, he reminded himself. Without them, he couldn't predict what would happen, as had been demonstrated when a servant had startled him by opening the door without his notice. He'd almost turned him into a human icicle before he'd realized his mistake, hastily pulling on the gloves once more.

All the lies he'd told himself about not being dangerous had always been wrong. He was a danger, to everyone and everything that he came into contact with.

Blaine didn't see him that way, but Cooper couldn't bear the thought of him frozen solid because he'd torn off his glove mid-play, or simply because Cooper's temper had flared.

The gloves only worked as long as he was calm. When he lost his temper, he couldn't predict his own behavior.

Still, he knew that it was Blaine's birthday, and he drew in a deep breath as he left his room, unattended, and made his way to Blaine's.

"Cooper?" Blaine asked, mouth dropping open in astonishment as he walked through the door, a gleeful smile crossing his face as he charged toward him, arms wide. "Cooper!"

"Easy, easy," he chided, forcing him to soften his tone when Blaine's steps slowed to a halt, hurt crossing his face. "Hey," he said, crouching down to his level - and it amazed him how much taller Blaine was getting; another year, he'd grow two more inches - before holding out his arms.

Without a moment's hesitation, Blaine launched himself at him, locking his arms tightly around Cooper's neck and sniffling against his shoulder. "Happy birthday, squirt," he told him, reaching up to ruffle his hair, painfully aware of the white streak in it.

"Please don't go," Blaine said against his shoulder, muffled by the fabric of Cooper's cape, and he sighed as he held him tighter, willing his powers to stay down, stay down for a few moments longer. If he panicked, then he'd hurt Blaine, and he'd never forgive himself if it happened again.

"I'm here," he told him, and he wanted to mean it, but he knew that it was a lie as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

When he didn't dare hold Blaine any longer for fear of freezing him, he took a step back and shook his head to discourage Blaine from following. "Please don't go," he said again, voice cracking with anguish, and Cooper couldn't help it, turning on his heel and fleeing before Blaine could think twice. "Cooper!"

He froze the door shut solid behind him.

It didn't quite muffle the sounds of Blaine's sobs, nor did it do anything to suppress his own tears as they trickled slowly down his face.

From that day on, he promised never to make false promises again.

* * *

 

Blaine's ninth birthday came and went largely unnoticed. As did the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth.

A mere week after Cooper's own twenty-second birthday, their parents stood on the threshold of the castle ready to depart, their youngest absent as their eldest stared at them in a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"You can't leave him," Cooper pleaded for the hundredth time. "I can't - "

"You'll be fine," his mother promised, smiling encouragingly at him. "You've been doing so much better. You haven't had an outburst in weeks."

"Just remember the gloves," his father added, ignoring the protests rising to his lips. "You're an Anderson, and someday you'll be king of Arendelle. Surely you can handle one boy for six weeks." He smiled encouragingly at Cooper, the first time he had done so in months. Maybe Cooper's absence and acquiescence had done wonders for his mood, but Cooper felt like he was on his last limbs, straining just to keep the magic from showing even in brief outdoor visits. The thought of being around Blaine for hours at a time was sickening, but Cooper couldn't just abandon him. He tasted bile at the thought.

Still, he hadn't even had a conversation with Blaine in months. The idea of trying to explain everything made his head spin, and he was grateful that his parents loading the last of their belongings on the carriage distracted him.

"You'll be fine," his father said, evidently attempting to buck up his mood. "Just wear the gloves and stay calm. You don't even have to tell him."

It was surprising how appealing the notion was; that he could somehow hide his powers forever. Blaine had had years to stop caring about his involvement; surely he wouldn't even want to know what had kept Cooper away for so long. Doubtless six years had changed his perspective a little; if nothing else, Cooper hadn't heard one of his snowman songs in almost three months.

The thought hurt more than he cared to say, but he still managed to dredge up a smile for his parents as they took a final check before stepping into the carriage. "I'll look after him," he promised them, because he couldn't not, and he saw his mother's shoulders slump with relief and his father's brow relax, ever so slightly.

"We'll see you soon," his father said, moments before the carriage door shut and they were off.

Cooper turned on his heel once the hall was vacant and quiet once more, retreating to his room before hesitating at the door, debating finding Blaine to tell him about everything.

He could. Surely three years was enough time for his head to heal from the accident. Telling him wouldn't change anything.

And that was when it hit him: telling him wouldn't change anything. He had already ruined his relationship with Blaine; asking him to forgive him now would be petty.

Stepping into his room, he shut his door behind him.

* * *

Two weeks later, they received the news.

There was a storm.

No survivors.

I'm so sorry.

Cooper forced himself to breathe evenly. If he lost control of his emotions, then he might kill someone, regardless of whether the walls of his room confined him or not. Even that was just an illusion; he was still dangerous to everyone even caged.

He didn't attend the funeral. Attending funerals wouldn't bring them back.

Still, it surprised him when, three days into his complete hermitage, a knock came on the door.

"Cooper?"

A softer knock, determined, but quiet. Almost gently intrusive. Please go away, he thought.

Please let me in, Blaine replied, without words.

* * *

Blaine waited until the heavy, shuddering breaths behind the door had quieted enough that he knew he would be heard before pressing a palm to the door, willing himself to be heard as he sang softly, "Please, I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been."

He let his weight press against the door, begging it to let him inside. When it didn't budge, he said weakly, "They say 'have courage,' and I'm trying to; I'm right out here for you; just let me in."

Sinking to the floor, he wrapped his arms around his knees, pressing his forehead against them briefly as he composed himself. He couldn't let himself break down; he'd learned a long time ago that breaking down in front of Cooper changed nothing.

At last, he sang, almost a whisper, almost a prayer, "We only have each other, it's just you and me - what are we gonna do?"

* * *

Cooper waited a beat, huddled against the door, terrified of his own emotions and his powers and the world without his parents.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

The simple inquiry grounded him, somehow, pulling him back from the edge, from the overwhelming terror that he was utterly alone.

Yes, I do, he thought, staring at the destruction he'd already wrought around his room, ice blasted to all four corners, before tucking his cheek against his knee and waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

When he eased the door open hours later, he didn't know what to do with Blaine, curled up on the floor and asleep.

At almost thirteen, he was heavier and taller than he'd been at six, but he still slid easily into Cooper's arms as he carried him back to his room and deposited him on his bed.

He didn't stir even when Cooper closed the door behind himself.

"Prince Cooper," a young man barely older than Cooper himself said as soon as he emerged. He flinched but didn't lash out as he turned, arching an eyebrow expectantly, jaw tense. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but the royal advisers would like to confer with you at your soonest convenience."

Releasing a pent-in sigh, Cooper replied, "I'll meet with them in the morning."

"As you wish." The servant vanished down the hallway without another word, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Leaning back against the wall separating him from Blaine's room, Cooper closed his eyes. willing his thoughts to disappear - all of it, his powers, his responsibilities, his parents' funerals, everything - to vanish.

When he finally pushed himself off the wall and stumbled off to his bedroom, he didn't sleep.

He rehearsed how he could tell Blaine about what had happened. How he could keep his powers under control, and how he wasn't dangerous or a monster or anything that he might be thinking, in spite of his forgiving persona.

He turned the thoughts over until the room spun and the words ran together in his mind, and then he stiffly changed into more suitable attire to greet the royal advisers and hear what they had to say about his kingdom.

His. It was his, now.

The thought was strangely overwhelming and relieving.

No more hiding away.

Glancing down at the gloves, he clenched his hands into fists and amended himself, No more cages.


	4. Chapter 4

Three Years Later.

Dawn on the morning of Prince Cooper's coronation found Arendelle lively and alert, dozens of lords and ladies mingling with the commoners outside the castle walls as ships dropped anchor in the fjord. Merchants, tailors, cooks, bards, and all other manner of salesmen were out in hoards whetting the appetites of the newest arrivals for the banquet and ball to come. The lords humored each other with talk of trading goods, but mostly conversations veered inevitably back toward the prince who had hidden away from their sight for almost a decade.

Some called him deranged, dangerous, locked up for the kingdom's protection. Others claimed that he was simply shy, boyishly out of sorts in a kingdom handed to him prematurely by death. The kinder ones looked forward to seeing their ruler with wide eyes and breathless anticipations; the harsher ones sniffed at the mention of his name and only halfheartedly promised to be impressed if he deigned to make an appearance.

In spite of the naysayers, however, the kingdom had mobilized on the promise that Prince Cooper would finally formally accept the throne. In order to do so, he would have to make a public appearance, and the castle that had so long stood empty but for the servants and guards and the Andersons themselves would be opened for the first time in almost a decade for the subsequent celebration.

While courtesy dictated that the king and queen be available, the princes had eluded Arendelle for years, and the thought of meeting them at last had the entire kingdom abuzz with excitement. Everyone that had the means had turned out for the event, and none were liable to miss it now that the day had arrived.

Including, as it were, the renowned Duke of Weselton, a striking young man known largely for his age and sudden ascendancy to head of his estate. "Do you find it at all striking, gentlemen," Clarington asked, glancing between his two guards as he walked across the boardwalk with them, away from the general crowd, "that in ten years, not a single soul outside the Andersons' employment has beheld the princes themselves?"

The Duke of Weselton was closer in age to the younger of the two princes; he stood tall with broad shoulders and sandy-brown hair, a stark contrast to the more common fair-haired children of the north. Having been raised as the sole heir to a prosperous estate, some claimed that the power had inflated Hunter Clarington's head considerably, though none would say so within his hearing. Clarington had already developed a reputation not unlike his late father's, ruthlessly eliminating competition by monopolizing Arendelle's favor, and he had plans to go farther than his predecessor ever had as he laid eyes upon the majesty of the castle for the first time.

Even among the elite, the castle was magnificent: large and ornate with countless practical undertones that rendered its beauty somehow even more striking. It was grand and immovable, elegant but strong: none would take the castle without its owners' permission. Reading the histories had left the Duke unprepared for the magnificence of the fortress that had withstood countless trials, and he felt a certain unquenchable jealousy as he stared at the closed gates.

"In all my readings," Clarington continued, leading the way toward the castle as his guards followed, "I have encountered only two circumstances whereupon a ruler refuses to be seen by his subjects. The first -" he held up a finger for emphasis, peeling an apple off a nearby vendor's cart and tossing a copper at him when the man opened his mouth to protest, "is a farce. The second is foul play. Keep your eyes open, gentlemen. Sorcery has long heralded from the northern isles." Taking a bite of his apple before tossing it aside in disgust, he gazed up at the castle and smirked. "Let us hope that nothing is amiss in Arendelle."

The guards said nothing, as per usual.

* * *

But as Cooper Anderson, prince of Arendelle and first in line to the throne, stood gazing out one of the tall windows onto the crowded streets beyond the castle walls, he couldn't suppress the nauseous feeling in his stomach.

No one will be hurt, he told himself firmly, pulling on the white gloves and gazing down at them, fingers trembling finely as he did so. No one will have to know.

He had been reluctant to agree to the ceremony at all. For the better part of three years, he had already ruled Arendelle. His transition from prince to king had been a somber affair, one in which he had not even been present for: as soon as the priest finished his prayers over the graves of his parents', Cooper Anderson assumed the throne by all but formal name.

His regents had allowed him to push back the formal coronation until his twenty-fifth birthday. "They must see your coronation," one of the advisers insisted as Cooper stood gazing out a window not unlike the one in his bedroom, almost a week prior when his nerve had faltered and he had been tempted to call off the entire affair. "If you do not accept the throne publicly, then there will forevermore be question about the legitimacy of the Andersons' entitlement to the throne."

Cooper would have happily surrendered the throne to the nearest peasant that desired it, in that moment, but he had bit his tongue and listened to his adviser, instead. That was why they were there, after all; to ensure that the prince made no foolish decisions as he masqueraded as king.

Calling off his own coronation would have been worse than foolish, but Cooper put it out of his thoughts as he slipped on his formal cloak, turning to gaze at himself in one of the mirrors and straightening his shoulders.

If nothing else, he certainly looked the part. He stood comfortably at six feet with a full head of snow-white hair crowning him, broad in shoulder and narrow in waist. Though lean from months of solitude, he was still strong enough to assist the servant's with the occasional mishap carrying an overfull trunk from one parlor to the next. Overall, he had a kingly ease to his step that bespoke royalty even more clearly than the unchristened scepter and bowl awaiting him on the dresser closest to the window.

Drawing in a deep breath as he stood, hands trembling, in front of the scepter and bowl, he reached out gingerly to grasp them, relaxing at the solid weight of metal against the gloves. Conceal it, he reminded himself, feeling almost relaxed for the first time in weeks as he straightened and approached the mirror, still holding the items, a growing smile on his face in spite of himself. Don't feel it.

He held the scepter and bowl up for the mirror's appraisal, chanting the priest's pronunciation in his head before gently setting them aside. Feeling almost giddy with relief, he considered rushing out and rousing Blaine to show him how far he had come. Once, the raw edge of his nerves would have made it impossible for him to touch the cool metal without freezing it, but with the help of the gloves and his own determination, he had done it.

It felt silly to him, abruptly, to have waited so long to complete a task so small.

Emboldened by his success, he stripped off the gloves and, reaching for the scepter and bowl, hesitated, aware of the power lurking just beneath his own fingertips, their capacity to freeze and destroy and kill.

I won't kill anyone, he reminded himself forcefully, fingers inching closer to the items before a sharp knock came on the door.

"Prince Cooper?"

Clearing his throat, Cooper hastily re-donned the gloves as he called out, "One moment."

"No need to come out, Your Highness; I merely wanted to confirm that you were aware that the guests are arriving and would like to know when the gates are opening."

Cooper breathed out slowly in response. They have to open sometime.

Glancing at the items on his dresser, determined and fiercely, devastatingly afraid, he called out, "Another hour, Frederick. Another hour."

"As you wish." The servant disappeared.

If only all of Cooper's dilemmas were that simple.

* * *

As for Prince Blaine, coronation day was exciting for many reasons. Balls. Feasts. Guests.

Presently, he savored the interruption to his usual pre-coronation morning routine which meant that, for the first time in over a month, he was permitted to sleep in past sunrise.

Until, of course: Trent.

"Prince Blaine? Prince Blaine, please answer the door, the guests will be arriving any moment!"

Trent sounded concerned, but Blaine's sheets were so warm, and the thought of abandoning them for the undoubtedly cold, cruel world beyond was intolerable. Surely Trent could keep Cooper occupied for another hour or so; just long enough for Blaine to steep properly in his own nirvana. Then he would be dashing and charming and everything the kingdom needed him to be.

For now, he would happily splay on top of his mattress, hair utterly in disarray and mouth partially open for a snore, and ignore Trent's increasingly frantic knocks.

If Cooper needed him, then Cooper could fetch him. Maybe he'd finally get to meet his own elusive brother for a change, he thought, too sleepy for malice. It would certainly be a treat not only for Arendelle but for Prince Blaine to see Cooper crowned in all his kingly glory.

Scrunching up his nose when the light fell across his closed eyelids just so and clinging determinedly to the blankets in hand, Blaine ignored the doubtless growing urgency in Trent's voice to bask.

Today was his day as much as Cooper's, after all. He would enjoy it when he wanted to enjoy it, and not a moment sooner.

And then the door unlocked and Blaine groaned as he curled tighter around the pillows. "Trent," he said, petulant whine tapering off into a yelp as he was hoisted bodily over a single broad shoulder. "Hey!"

"You're such a brat sometimes," Cooper said, not without fondness, as he carried him into the hallway and deposited him at the foot of the door. Blaine let out a grunt as he hit the wood, wincing as he sat up.

"Geez, Coop." Smiling up at him in spite of himself, he added, "Already exercising your kingly authority over poor, helpless men?"

"You're not a man, you're my brother," Cooper said, straightening regally and dusting off his hands. The white gloves had been scrubbed to an even brighter shine, Blaine noticed. He looked authoritative in his regal purple shirt and dark blue cloak, matching pants completing the look.

Before Blaine could comment - or even begin to formulate a witty reply for his own disheveled state - Cooper swept down the hallway with a stiff, "I'll be in my chambers. Doors open in an hour."

Blaine opened his mouth to call after him, a "Coop, wait," on his lips before the doors closed sonorously behind him at the end of the hall.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Blaine reached up to rub a hand over his face, scrubbing the sleepiness out of his expression as Trent hovered nearby. "Prince Blaine - " he began, evidently unable to help himself before Blaine held up a hand.

"No need," he assured, picking himself off the floor and dusting off his pants. Looking around the empty hall, the sun already painting the floor a brilliant golden hue, he grinned and said, "It's coronation day."

"That's what I've been saying," Trent interjected, sounding pained.

"Trent, it's coronation day," Blaine corrected, reaching out to grab his arms and giving him a single delighted shake. "Today! We're opening up the gates!"

"In less than an hour, yes," Trent said, cringing at the reminder. "We need to get you dressed and prepared for the - "

Blaine laughed, cutting him off with a playful shove as he ducked back into his room, stripping down quickly while Trent resumed knocking energetically on the door. Throwing on his pants and shirt and other liveries, he tugged on a pair of socks as Trent continued to warn him all the terrible things that would doubtless be said about them if the second-in-line missed the crowning ceremony. Hastily grooming his hair into a more manageable nest, Blaine straightened his shoulders in front of the mirror and beamed at himself, pleased with his work.

Throwing the doors open, he managed to knock Trent clean off his feet.

If anything, Trent looked even more harried than before, glancing up at Blaine and relaxing when he saw that he was in his more formal attire. "You look presentable," he allowed.

"Thank you," Blaine replied, straightening the white colors of his shirt and smiling down at him, offering him a hand up. Trent gratefully accepted it, looking him over and nodding in approval.

"You look very presentable," he said more charitably, and Blaine laughed as he tugged the sleeves of his dark green jacket into place.

"Your kind words are inspiring as always," Blaine teased, dancing out of his reach before Trent could drag him off to one of the castle's meeting rooms, doubtless to confer with the advisers. "I'll see you at the ball!"

Trent's exasperated sigh was lost to him as Blaine hurried down the hall in Cooper's footsteps, hoping in vain to catch him in the connecting corridor. Even as his heart sank with disappointment, it lifted as he descended a staircase and looked down at the masses gathered outside the castle gates, awaiting entry with eager, chatter-filled expectation.

Overcome, he let out an exultant, "The window is open," and, glancing at the end of the hallway, crowed, "so's that door!" Servants were still wrestling the last curtains into place as he strode down the open space, utterly failing to keep a serious expression on his face.

Standing at the end of the hallway looking over the breathtaking vista exposed, he mused, "I didn't know they did that anymore." Startling when the doors opened behind him, admitting two lines of servants bearing tall stacks of golden plates, he took one of the stack and sang, "Who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates?"

"Good morning to you, too, Your Highness," Lucy said dryly, bearing one of the stacks with surprising ease as he replaced the plate on top of it and hurried into the adjacent ballroom, awed by the sunlight streaming in for a change.

"For years I've roamed these empty halls," he sang, looking around himself and questioning openly, "why have a ballroom with no balls?"

Approaching the nearest window and resting both hands on the sill, he gazed out over the crowds below and proclaimed, "Finally, they're opening up the gates!"

"There'll be actual real life people," he said to himself, turning away from the scene below to look at the ballroom, striding forward a few steps, each movement easy, natural, graceful, "it'll be totally strange."

Puffing out a laugh, he admitted, "But wow, am I so ready for this change!"

"Prince Blaine!" Trent was out of breath but relieved as he hurried into the room, almost sliding on the freshly polished floor. "Please don't run away again. We need to make sure everything's settled for the ceremony, the gates will be opening soon!"

"How soon is soon?" Blaine asked, playfully twirling him out of reach when Trent tried to smooth down his lapel. "Trent! You're fussier than my brother."

"He's not without reason, you know," Trent sniffed, affronted, before sighing as he backed away. "Please be at the ceremony on time. That's all I ask."

"I will," Blaine promised, smiling at him reassuringly. "It's coronation day, Trent. Don't you know what this means?"

"I don't have to chase you around the castle all day?" Trent asked hopefully.

Blaine laughed, shaking his head as he walked away, waving a hand dismissively at him. "Enjoy yourself, Trent. Try some of those imported sweets - what are those?"

"Chocolates?"

Blaine's eyes slid shut in pleasure at the memory of the melting, succulent sweets. "Chocolates," he agreed lovingly, letting the door fall closed heavily behind him.

Beauty of a castle: no want for space or doors to escape remonstrance behind.

Maybe that was why Cooper had hid away for so long, Blaine mused, as he ran his fingers along the delicate wooden railing of the staircase. Still, he couldn't help but be amazed by the transformation taking place all around him, how excited everyone was to finally meet them and see Cooper crowned.

"'Cause for the first time in forever - there'll be music, there'll be light," he sang, reaching the bottom of the flight of stairs and veering off toward a familiar quiet gallery, letting his attention wander as he looked at the pictures on the walls. "For the first time in forever, I'll be dancing through the night."

"Don't know if I'm elated or gassy," he admitted, "but I'm somewhere in that zone!"

Walking to the edge of the gallery, he flopped down on a couch and sang softly, "'Cause for the first time in forever - I won't be alone."

Closing his eyes and basking in the moment, he almost fell off the couch when he realized just how many people would be in attendance. Everyone from Arendelle and the southern isles, their neighboring kingdoms from far across the sea, all of them, just waiting to meet the soon-to-be-crowned King Cooper and, well. Prince Blaine himself.

And surely among all the beautiful women that would doubtless swoon at Cooper's feet, there would be a gentleman or two who might cast his eye Blaine's way. His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought.

Once, he might have been terrified by the urges that had crept over him as he aged, his gaze cast longingly in the direction of young men rather than women. Thankfully, their library was formidably stocked with histories, and Blaine quickly realized that it wasn't uncommon for royalty to engage in such behavior, not in Arendelle, at least. There was simply no need to chastise the behavior, especially not when Cooper would bear the responsibility to carry on the line. As long as Blaine married into a wealthy estate, or a man of equal prestige, then he needn't worry about shame descending upon the family.

He doubted his parents would have approved one of their only two sons engaging in such prodigiously unproductive behavior, but the pang of awareness lasted only a moment before he hauled himself to his feet and made his way toward the entrance, decidedly cheerful.

He was not going to let anything dampen his spirits today. Nothing could. Not with the gates opening.

"Tonight imagine me, suit and all; fetchingly draped against the wall; the picture of sophisticated grace." Leaning against a column for support as he feigned a swoon, Blaine blinked in surprise when he saw two servants carrying silver platters hastily across the floor, following them and beaming when he saw the array of food already laid out on the long tables, including an entire table devoted to trays of the small round bite-sized chocolates.

Waiting until the servants had departed, he neared the tables, gazing at all the splendor laid out and beaming. He could almost see the guests filling the hall already, a hand reaching for the same chocolate as he was and a warm, friendly face greeting him when he looked up.

"I suddenly see him standing there," he said, "a beautiful stranger, tall and fair." Suddenly unable to look at the warm, friendly face in his imagination, blue eyes dancing with delight and mirth, a ready smile on the young man's face, he darted over to the chocolate table and spared a quick look at the door for any potential witnesses. Then, allowing himself to break decorum, he admitted between quick bites, "I wanna stuff some chocolate in my face!"

Startling at a door snapping shut behind him, he whirled around and relaxed when he saw that no one had seen his indulgence. Straightening his shoulders and brushing off his jacket, he glanced over at the place where the imaginary suitor had been, closing his eyes and calling him back to mind easily.

"But then we laugh and talk all evening," he continued, swaying gently to his own tune as he added, "which is totally bizarre." Letting go of the fantasy at last as he opened his eyes and looked around the empty room, he shook his head, walking to the end of the hall instead. "Nothing like the life I've lead so far," he admitted, shutting the doors gently behind himself.

"For the first time in forever - there'll be magic, there'll be fun," he sang, nearing the doors that had been barred for as long as Blaine could remember, half a dozen servants darting to and fro while four guards stood in patient vigil in front of the gates themselves. "For the first time in forever - I could be noticed by someone."

No one paid him any mind, evidently of the opinion that Blaine was still too high-ranking to offend by questioning his eccentricities. Gazing up at the magnificent windows overhead, letting light pour into the room - how had it ever been so wonderfully open and bright? - Blaine quieted, humbled, as he continued.

"I know it is totally crazy, to dream I'd find romance; but for the first time in forever - at least I've got a chance."

"Well, I'd say more than a chance, but maybe I'm biased," David called out playfully as he finished adjusting the curtains on one wall.

Blaine smiled to himself, not deigning to reply.

He was prince of Arendelle, and it was coronation day. Surely even he was allowed to enjoy himself.

* * *

Cooper was not enjoying himself much at all. "Don't mess this up," he warned himself softly, staring at the image in the mirror and hardly believing they were the same person. His reflection seemed so calm and collected even though Cooper felt like he was on the verge of falling apart.

His powers were acting up. Predictable, of course; the nerves of the upcoming event were wearing down his resolve to be utterly implacable, and seeing Blaine again, bright-eyed and hopeful, had been a blow to his carefully-constructed armor.

He needed to be king of Arendelle. Fearless ruler, devoted liege. Not terrified, trembling possessor of a power of untold magnitude. A power with the capacity to harm, to maim, to kill.

I won't hurt anyone, he thought, clenching his hands into fists as pockets of white mist emitted from them. He waited until the ice retreated before reaching forward carefully to scoop up the bowl and scepter, hands uncovered.

"Don't let them in," he chanted as he stared down at his hands and willed his power to behave, holding the items aloft, "don't let them see." Meeting his gaze in the mirror, he recited, "Be the good boy you're always meant to be."

Hands shaking, he closed his eyes, willing the ice to stay away as he echoed, "Conceal. Don't feel. Put on a show."

When he felt the tendrils of ice creeping over the scepter and bowl, he hastily set them aside, pulling on the gloves again and blinking back the disappointment and terror that threatened to overwhelm him. "Make one wrong move and everyone will know," he reflected mournfully, shoulders slumping.

Firming his resolve, he walked over to the window, aware of the seconds ticking by, the last remaining moments of freedom slipping away from him. "It's only for today," he said, running a hand along the windowsill consolingly, unaware of Blaine gleefully awaiting the guards' final orders to open the gates below. "It's agony to wait."

Still, he took his time before he padded back over to the door and told the servant stationed there, "Tell the guards to open up the gate."

* * *

Three stories below, in perfect unison, Blaine delightedly announced, "They're opening up the gate!"

"And for the first time in forever," he sang, beside himself with excitement as he marched fearlessly into their midst, aware of Trent's fretting about decorum even as he laughed and leaped onto one of the archways, holding his hands to his heart and saying, "I'm getting what I'm dreaming of! A chance to change my lonely world." He hopped off the rock arch and landed on the gravel once more, striding forward confidently, unaware of Cooper doing the same back in the castle, a row of guards heralding his appearance.

Some gazed inquisitively at Blaine as he passed, but none paused to stop him and, with a delighted grin, he knew that they didn't even recognize him. "A chance to find true love," he crooned, wondering if any of the ladies gazed at him and thought he was half as dashing and daring and bold as he felt. Or, better yet, any gentlemen.

That would be optimistic even for him, though, so Blaine settled on continuing down the road as the masses poured into the castle for the first time, gaining momentum with each step. "I know it all ends tomorrow, so it has to be today! 'Cause for the first time in for-e-ver -nothing's in my way!"

And nothing was, until he walked straight into a horse owned by a tall, handsome stranger and promptly splashed into the fjord.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine scrabbled for purchase on the deck, teeth chattering, just as a pair of sturdy hands slipped under his arms and hauled him out of the water. "Thank you," he gasped, struggling to keep his shivering to a minimum as he smiled halfheartedly at the stranger. "Sorry for running into your - horse," he added, blinking back his surprise as he met the stranger's gaze at last.

"Oh, I'm sure she'll live," the stranger assured, patting the neck of his mare almost fondly. "She's been through worse. You, on the other hand - " he looked at Blaine skeptically, expression softening into a wry smile a moment later. "Well, you still look handsome enough."

Blaine blushed under the praise, ducking his head. "Thank you, uh - ?"

"Sebastian." Jutting out a hand regally and accepting Blaine's cold, damp handshake without flinching, he finished, "Sebastian Smythe."

"Oh. Wow. Well, I'm - "

"Blaine Anderson," Sebastian interrupted, his smile unfaltering as he gave his hand a second shake before releasing it. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor's mine," Blaine said unthinkingly. "I mean, I've heard a lot about you - not about you, I have heard about you, too, I've just - "

Sebastian laughed, putting a merciful end to Blaine's stammering attempts at conversation. There was a reason why Cooper was first in line to the throne, Blaine thought ruefully, torn between running away and enduring his shame by staying. "I really am sorry for running into your horse," he said at last.

"Think nothing of it," Sebastian assured, unpinning his cloak and draping it around Blaine's shoulders before he could open his mouth to protest. "You're shaking," he added, and Blaine was surprised to find that he was, although he wasn't sure if it was from nerves or cold. Probably a combination of the two.

"Silver suits you," Sebastian added, politely filling in the gap of conversation as Blaine hugged the cloak around himself.

"Silver runs in my family," he admitted. Sebastian's hair was dark, and Blaine relaxed at the sudden realization that he was far from unusual in the mixed company of southern and northern residents. For years, he'd stood out and been subsequently unwanted, but Sebastian didn't seem put off in the slightest by his appearance. It was nice. Relaxing.

"Whereabouts are you from?" he asked formally, more comfortable in the traditional role of polite prince. That much, at least, he could do without sticking his foot in his mouth.

"The southern isles," Sebastian said, one hand holding the reins of his horse and the other draped loosely at his side. Blaine couldn't help but notice the sword at his side, belatedly realizing that he was royalty, kicking himself for not seeing it before. "I never thought I'd chance upon the prince of Arendelle outside his castle in such an unusual manner."

"Oh, I'm not the prince," Blaine hurried to correct. When Sebastian arched an eyebrow in polite surprise, he explained, "I am a prince, but I'm not - I'm second-in-line. Cooper's the prince. The king. Soon-to-be king. I'm a prince, too, but that's all I'll ever be."

Sebastian's smile didn't fall, and Blaine found himself relaxing in spite of himself. "All you'll ever be?" he asked, a teasing edge coloring his tone. "I hardly think you're just a prince. You seem considerably more adventurous." His gaze fell upon the fjord.

"Unfortunately so," Blaine agreed, tightening his grip around Sebastian's cloak before relaxing it abruptly, reaching up to unhook it. "Forgive me, I need to - "

Sebastian held up a hand to stop him, resting it at his collar. The sudden intimacy of the gesture brought heat to Blaine's cheeks once more, and it was all he could do not to flail back in surprise. "Keep it," he said, stepping aside and mounting his horse once more. "Consider it a gift," he added, grin expanding as he lifted a hand in salute. "I'll see you at the coronation?"

"Of course," Blaine said, frozen in place but smiling through sheer force of will. "Absolutely. I'll be there. At the coronation. I'll see you there." Wincing at his own lack of subtlety, he lifted a hand in polite farewell as Sebastian laughed and urged his mare back up the road to rejoin the ranks of people entering the castle.

Acutely aware of his chattering teeth, Blaine hurried back up the road in the opposite direction. If he was quick, then he would make it to the castle in time to change before the ceremonies began. Walking as briskly as he dared in public, offering smiles to whomever cared to receive them as he passed, he focused on the castle and winced when he heard the bells chiming.

Cooper's gonna kill me, he thought, breaking into a run as soon as he was behind the walls.

* * *

Cooper didn't look around for Blaine as he entered the Great Hall, but the expectation was still there when he descended the steps at a smooth, brisk clip that brought him to the floor in mere seconds. As soon as he could, he turned to address one of the servants, demanding quietly, "Where is Prince Blaine?"

"I'm not sure, Your Grace," the servant replied, appearing flustered at the realization. "Shall I have a guard sent out to retrieve him?"

Cooper resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose at the indignant image of his brother being escorted back to his own castle on coronation day. It didn't make any sense that he would choose to disappear right before the ceremony; he'd only been talking about it for the past three months. "Leave him," he said at last, deciding to trust Blaine's sense of duty if not his general intelligence to lead him back to the castle on time.

Almost as if his words had summoned him from the ether, Cooper turned and there he was, crossing the floor quickly toward the staircase and avoiding the eye of everyone in sight. "Blaine," he called, and Blaine halted, a mouse caught in a trap, before sighing visibly and straightening, meeting Cooper's gaze in a challenge. When Cooper didn't say anything across the Great Hall, he sighed again and made his way forward, dripping across the polished floor and holding Cooper's gaze.

"Your Majesty," he said, disguising his embarrassment as coolness as he bowed. "You're looking regal today."

"You're soaked," Cooper replied. He'd never been one to pandy words if he could avoid it, and with servants speaking to other nobility and leading them toward the church for the crowning ceremony, he knew that his time was limited. "What were you doing?"

Embarrassment crept over Blaine's features in spite of himself, a subtle twist of his mouth and a high color in his cheeks that Cooper knew wasn't simply a flush of excitement at the festivities. "It seemed like a lovely day for a swim until I remembered that the fjord never really warms in the summer." He lifted his head, daring Cooper to contest the claim, and Cooper was about to roll his eyes at the sheer Blaine-ness of it all when a bell began tolling.

Cooper's heart skipped a beat, his hands shaking of their own accord as he tucked them into his pockets. Before he could say a word, Blaine ducked out of the way with a quick bow and darted up the staircase, out of sight before Cooper could even think of a proper chastisement. Belatedly realizing that there was none - Blaine didn't need to lead the procession, after all - Cooper drew in a deep, steeling breath and tried not to think about how little he wanted to be seen.

I won't hurt them, he told himself, allowing one of the higher-ranking guards to escort him to his place in the procession. I won't let anyone know.

Chanting the words to himself in time with the gaps between the bells tolling, Cooper drew himself to his fullest, most regal height and waited, blanking his mind of all other things.

* * *

Blaine shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood, still outfitted in his damp and cold outfit from his tumble into the fjord. He'd only had enough time to smooth his hair back into submission and make sure nothing unseemly was clinging to his outfit before hurrying back down the steps to join his place in the procession. If he'd needed to sneak forward after the nobility had taken their seats and assume his rightful place near Cooper's side, then at least no one had made any pointed remarks about it.

Wearing a suit that was two shades darker than it should have been, Blaine was aware of Cooper's scrutiny even as his head remained firmly forward, listening to the priest speak. Falling into the familiar role of dutiful second, Blaine kept his attention forward, smiling when the priest concluded his lengthy oratory about the throne of Arendelle and reached back to present the scepter and bowl while the singers above kept up a haunting, almost lulling melody.

Looking over at Cooper, deciding that even he couldn't be upset about such a magnificent moment, he was surprised to see the anxiety written in every tense line of his shoulders, his jaw tight as he reached for the scepter and bowl, both hands still gloved.

Coop, he wanted to say, an almost laughable intrusion into the perfect silence, because clearly Cooper's nerves had gotten the better of him. He bit his tongue, though, because even he knew better than to speak upon the altar, and it was only when the priest murmured, "Your Majesty - the gloves?" that Blaine relaxed.

Then he felt a twinge of regret that the priest had said anything at all, certain that the fine tremors in his fingers were not imaginary as Cooper slowly peeled off the gloves and set them on the pillow itself. The priest seemed satisfied and Blaine attempted to mirror his ease, in appearance if not in spirit, as he watched Cooper close his hands around the items and turn to hold them aloft.

Straightening his own shoulders reflexively as the crowd rose, the priest chanting behind them, Blaine watched Cooper's hands tremble, almost falling back a step when he saw the frost collecting at the best of the items. Just as Blaine opened his mouth in alarm, Cooper hastily whirled around, depositing the scepter and bowl on the pillow and re-donning the gloves just as the priest pronounced him King of Arendelle.

And just like that, the moment passed. Cooper's smile seemed natural as he looked out over the men and women congregated to witness the event, and Blaine couldn't find anything to fault in the line of his shoulders or even the fine tremble of his hands that merited immediate comment. Belatedly remembering to smile himself, Blaine fell into place as they stepped out of the church, Cooper leading the way down the altar.

Tempted though he was to beat a hasty retreat and don more comfortable clothing, Blaine remained at Cooper's side as they entered the grand ballroom, spirits lightening considerably when he saw how many people were already there, eagerly awaiting their arrival. "It's the King!" someone exclaimed as Cooper made his way forward. Blaine followed at his heels, keen to understand what had happened, exactly. His stomach twisted at the thought that someone had tampered with the items. He couldn't imagine anyone trying to harm Cooper, but if his unsettled expression was anything to go by, he'd been stricken by the unexpectedness of it.

Remaining at his side as both a courtesy and out of curiosity, Blaine almost tripped over his own feet as he followed Cooper's back through the crowd, grateful that no one seemed to be paying any special attention to him. That was how it always was - Cooper pulled focus, and Blaine obediently followed in his wake. Even in silence, the gossip was always about what Prince Cooper was up to that required him to be so secretive, not the other prince that would assume the throne only in the event of a catastrophe. (Blaine didn't even like to entertain the notion; prepared though he was, the idea of ruling Arendelle in Cooper's place made his stomach twist.)

Halting once he reached the edge of the pedestal at the far end of the throne, Blaine watched Cooper ascend alone, stepping in front of the throne and drawing a deep, fortifying breath before he turned to face the men and women gathered in the ballroom.

Blaine almost yelped when a pair of firm hands propelled him from behind toward the pedestal, ushering him to the empty space at Cooper's side and ignoring his hasty, "Really, it's all the same to me that - "

"Nonsense," Cooper said coolly, cutting him off before the old guard needed to as he retreated at a nod from Cooper. "You're my brother. And a prince."

Blaine opened his mouth to remind himself that he wasn't particularly inclined to usurp Cooper, but then he was drawn to the applause from the ladies and gentlemen congregated in front of them. Schooling his expression into his brightest, most welcoming smile, he bowed slightly out of reflex while Cooper remained straight-backed at his side. The king bows for no one, Blaine reminded himself as he straightened.

It wasn't long before Blaine forgot all about the strange incident in the chapel, humming along to the music and sniffing appreciatively when he caught a whiff of melted chocolate, licking his lips unthinkingly.

"I'm surprised you haven't swept any maidens off their feet yet," Cooper mused aloud, startling Blaine out of his reverie.

"Who, me?" he asked reflexively, clasping his hands in front of himself. He forced a friendly smile as he added, "I seem to have already been swept off mine once. I'd rather not tempt fate."

Cooper laughed, abating some of the tension between them. Letting the music fill the lull in their conversation for a time, he leaned closer to Blaine and whispered, "I'm not as slow as you think I am." Then, easing back to his same rigid posture, he mused more conversationally, "How you managed to survive all these years, I'll never know, given how often you tempt fate."

"I only fell in the fjord once," Blaine said, affronted. "Seeing how little you've been around, I didn't know you cared at all."

Blaine knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they were the wrong things to say.

"Look, Coop, I just - "

"King Cooper," a noble-sounding voice interrupted, accompanied by a sweeping bow as a tall young man neared. "Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Hunter Clarington, Duke of Weselton. As Arendelle's primary trading partner, I would request the first dance but - "

"My brother would be more than happy to oblige," Cooper finished, turning to face Blaine as he gaped at him. "Perhaps you have a lady friend he might entertain in your stead?" he asked after a long pause, and Blaine felt his breath leave him in sheer relief. He didn't know how obvious, precisely, the sudden thundering of his heart at the mere notion of dancing with a man was, but he knew that it wasn't comely for royalty, not at all, even if his daydreams were so much sweeter. No one would exile him for entertaining the fantasies or even engaging in them in private, but it seemed too presumptuous by half to actually display them in the open.

And Cooper didn't know. He'd be more ashamed than ever to know that Blaine was not only hopelessly socially inept but attracted to men.

To Blaine's surprise, Clarington didn't even bat an eyelash at the implied affront. Instead, he replied, "I'm afraid I will have to suffice. Your Grace?"

He extended a hand and Blaine didn't even have the heart to correct his misuse of the honorific before he blurted out, "I - I couldn't. I mean, I - I need a drink." He hurried off toward the refreshments table before either man could stop him, aware that his face was flaming with shame. Idiot, he berated himself as he reached for a glass of wine, startled when another hand interrupted his mid-reach.

"Forgive me. It's yours," the owner of the hand said, backing off almost before Blaine could speak.

"Sebastian?" Blaine asked, incredulous, as he turned to look at the man, decked out in regal silvers and blues.

Sebastian flashed him a warm smile at the recognition. "The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" Blaine hurriedly picked up the wine glass to distract himself and took a sip.

"The same as everyone else." Glancing around appreciatively, Sebastian let his gaze fall on Blaine and added with a smirk, "Enjoying myself."

"That's nice," Blaine said, taking another sip of wine to distract himself.

Utterly unperturbed by Blaine's discombobulation, Sebastian asked thoughtfully, "You wouldn't happen to know why the king has been so reclusive, would you?"

Blaine blinked, startled by the transition and almost choking on his drink before he swallowed the rest of it. "Who, Cooper?" Shaking his head and reaching for another glass gratefully, he explained, "He's always been rather . . . withdrawn." He chose not to elaborate on the degree; it seemed unfair, somehow, when so many good memories of Cooper and him spending time together existed. Whatever had gone wrong must have been his fault for Cooper to reject him so entirely. Surely if Cooper had been the one at fault, then he would have realized that Blaine didn't care what it was. He had just wanted Cooper back.

Looking across the ballroom at him, Blaine gulped down the remainder of his drink - and really, how uncouth could one be - before stammering, "I should get back to him, I need to - apologize, I was rude and - "

"One dance?" Sebastian asked, and Blaine's heart stopped as he let himself be led to the floor.

"You know, in the south, it's quite common for gentlemen to favor one another," Sebastian said matter-of-factly, leading him along at arm's length but still far too close for Blaine's comfort. Everyone could see them, anyone could see them, and if there was anything else he needed to ostracize himself further in their eyes - "Ladies as well, of course," Sebastian finished, twirling him playfully as Blaine held onto him for support.

He couldn't tell if the dizziness was a byproduct of the wine or his own nerves, but he was almost grateful when a loud, notably perturbed voice stated coolly, "Your Majesty."

"Clarington," he said, releasing Sebastian hastily and stating, "I was just - this is - "

"Sebastian Smythe," Sebastian finished, holding out a hand. Blaine didn't miss the delicate, almost disgusted way that Clarington shook it, releasing it just as quickly. "Clarington. Prince Blaine." He added the last with a slight bow, a mischievous glint in his smile tapering off into a neutral expression as he met Clarington's gaze once more before vanishing into the crowds.

"Had I known you preferred to drink, I would have invited you over sooner," Clarington said once Sebastian was out of sight, fixing the full weight of his stare on Blaine.

"Actually, I was - "

"I insist," Clarington said. The dismissal was clear in his tone as he placed a firm but warning hand on Blaine's arm and steered him back to the table. "So tell me, Prince Blaine," he asked, lifting a glass in a toast as Blaine did the same, suddenly wishing that he had heeded Cooper's advice and chosen fair maidens to sweep off their feet, "tell me about yourself. We've heard so little about the princes that it was a delight to finally meet the king. And you, of course."

Somehow, Blaine doubted that anything delighted Clarington, but he didn't say as much as he replied, "Well, you've met him yourself; you know as much as I do." Sipping from a third glass of wine to distract himself, he added, "I'm not particularly interesting."

"That's hardly the same story I've heard," Clarington said with an almost wolfish smile. "They say you have strange powers. Mystic ones, even. You're the interest of many gossipers."

"No, no strange powers," Blaine said, frowning at the implication even as he accepted the drink Clarington handed him. He didn't remember drinking the third, but it always seemed to flow more sweetly after the second glass, making both company and conversation more palatable. Warming to Clarington in spite of himself, he admitted, "Cooper's always been a mystery to me. But I'm completely ordinary, rest assured."

"Has he?" Clarington asked, suddenly intrigued, while Blaine nodded and laughed a little in spite of himself, missing the fact that Clarington wasn't interested in him at all. Cooper was always more interesting. Cooper was, well. Cooper.

"I really should be getting back to him," Blaine said, almost apologetically, as he bowed at Clarington, forgetting himself and wincing apologetically. "Sorry. I mean, not sorry, just - bye." He stumbled back in Cooper's direction before he could stick his foot in his mouth a second time, gratefully making his way through the crowd and beaming when he spotted Cooper.

"Hey. Coop! Isn't this amazing? We're finally having a ball." Twirling in a single loop, taking in the scene, he mused again, "We're having a ball. We should do this every night."

"We can't do this every night," Cooper retorted. "Are you drunk?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, ambling up to him on the platform and not missing the way Cooper edged away from him when he neared. "Why can't we do this every night?" he asked, almost pleading. "It's so nice, Cooper. The music, the people, the food." He sniffed the air appreciatively, reaching to pull Cooper out toward the floor. "You have to try it, Coop, the chocolate is amazing."

"Don't touch me." It came out low and cold; the iron in Cooper's voice was unmistakable.

Blaine froze as if struck, suddenly, overwhelmingly sober as he stared at his brother and took in the same man that had avoided him for years. Stepping away from him when his resolve didn't waver, he felt his heart sink as he realized that to Cooper it really was just a show. There wouldn't be an encore. There wouldn't even be a second chance. This was it - his one night to enjoy himself before they shut the gates again and everything returned to normal.

"Coop," he said softly.

Cooper's own expression softened for a moment, and Blaine thought he might cave. Then he stiffened his jaw and turned away from him, looking out over the crowds instead.

With no appetite for anything, Blaine bit back the retort that wanted to rip through him before turning on his heel and stalking off. No one stopped him until he reached the doors; one of the guards offered a halfhearted, "Is everything all right, my prince?"

Blaine didn't respond as he stepped through the doors and let them fall shut firmly behind him, wrapping his arms around himself as he paced away from the laughter, the dancing, the music that would fade.

Sitting down heavily on a stone bench around the corner, he buried his hands in his hair and willed everything to stop spinning for a while.

He almost jumped when he felt someone sit on the bench beside him, bumping his shoulder companionably. "Hey."

Blaine didn't lift his head at first, forcing himself to do so after a moment and smiling halfheartedly at Sebastian. "Hey."

"Come with me," Sebastian suggested, standing and holding out a hand, and Blaine didn't hesitate to take it.

He'd spent his whole life waiting for someone, something, to take him away from the isolation and loneliness that had followed him forever.

He wasn't about to turn it down when it finally appeared.


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay, wait, slow down. You have how many older brothers?"

"Twelve." Sebastian didn't seem to notice that Blaine was gaping at him, carrying on easily as they strolled through one of the gardens together. "Three of them tried to have me shipped off to the north permanently." Flashing Blaine a warm smile that made his heart flutter, Sebastian added, "They didn't succeed, but now that I'm here, I can't say it's been a disappointment."

"That's very kind of you to say," Blaine said, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his neck self-consciously. It felt strange to be complimented by someone that he'd only met a handful of hours ago; even more so, it felt good to be wanted, desired, and appreciated. No one else had seen his distress and cared, except perhaps the guards, and their attachment was solely out of concern that the second-in-line remain intact, should harm come to Cooper, not Blaine himself.

Pushing thoughts of Cooper firmly out of his mind, Blaine startled when Sebastian leaned over to nudge his shoulder with his own, drawing his attention back to the present. Grinning, he nudged back - a little harder than he meant to - and demanded, "What?"

"As fascinating as my stories are, I bet yours are even more impressive."

"Hardly," Blaine said with a laugh. "I've spent my whole life in a castle. That doesn't exactly trump sailing around the world."

"You should try it sometime," Sebastian suggested.

Blaine shivered at the thought, reaching up to draw his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. "I think I'll let you do all the sailing," he assured. "Arendelle has all the adventures I need."

"I might be able to change your mind," Sebastian said, smiling at him.

Blaine was about to protest when Sebastian looped an arm through his. The solid heat radiating from his arm sent a warm flush straight to Blaine's face as he struggled for a response. Rather than seeming put off by Blaine's uncertainty, Sebastian took it in stride, explaining the mechanics of sailing in a calm, cool voice that quickly drew Blaine in. By the time they reached the very edges of the castle's main garden, the air was even cooler than before, prompting Blaine to shuffle close to Sebastian on a wooden bench for warmth.

Soaking in the heat emitting from his side and worrying still that his faintly damp, cool clothing might affect Sebastian, Blaine listened to him talk about the southern isles for what might have been hours. The combined warmth in his belly and at his side made him considerably more amenable to the conversation; it was soon a challenge to restrain himself and not chime in with a comment about how magnificent Arendelle could be every time Sebastian alluded to it.

"I can't wait to show you more," he said at last, no longer able to hold back, and Sebastian's smile seemed to brighten even more. Hopping to his feet, Blaine tentatively put out a hand, grateful when Sebastian slid his own warm, gloved one into it.

"We shouldn't be gone long," Sebastian said, making no move to stop Blaine as he tugged him down the path. "People will wonder where you've been."

"Their interests and imaginations must be fleeting," Blaine assured, "because no one has ever noticed where I go." Then, charitably, he added, "Except the servants, but they don't mind."

On that note, Blaine led him around the castle's exterior, soaking in Sebastian's praise and chiming in whenever a particular feature gave him pause. He felt almost giddy with delight that someone actually cared about the things that he was saying, rambling on whenever Sebastian posted an inquiry about this or that, his summer plans, his favorite things.

It was almost midnight by the time Blaine looked back at the castle and realized with a pang in his chest that all of it would be over soon. The momentary slash of grief was quickly replaced by anger that Cooper couldn't see how wonderful it was, that all he wanted was to shut himself away again.

"You seem troubled, my prince," Sebastian said teasingly, idling up behind him and following his gaze to the high-tiered windows of the castle. "Is something wrong?" He let a hand rest on Blaine's shoulder comfortingly; Blaine's gaze remained fixed on the castle even as he relaxed a little.

Blaine almost brushed the comment off with an assured, Everything's fine. Then, turning on the low balcony to face Sebastian, he let a rueful smile cross his lips before he asked, "Can I say something ... crazy?"

Sebastian didn't even flinch as he replied, "I love crazy."

Whether it was the wine or the weather or the unfairly attractive man in front of him that did it, Blaine couldn't help but sing. "All my life has been a series of doors in my face," he admitted, running a hand down the fine grain of the balcony door before turning to face Sebastian and proclaiming, "and then suddenly, I bump into you."

Rather than looking annoyed, Sebastian smiled and arched an eyebrow at him, singing back playfully, "That's funny, 'cause I've been searching my whole life to find my own place." He was so close Blaine could feel his breath, suddenly frozen to place before Sebastian finished lightly, "And maybe it's the party talking, or the chocolate fondue. But with you - "

"But with you," Blaine harmonized, circling Sebastian and leaning back against the balcony, "I see your face."

"I found my place," Sebastian agreed, stepping in front of him until Blaine had no choice but to lean forward and kiss him or lean back and sit on the edge of the balcony.

When Sebastian joined him on the balcony edge fearlessly a moment later, he laughed and sang with him, "And it's nothing like I've ever known before. Love is an open doooor!"

Glancing over when Sebastian hopped off the ledge onto the balcony, he yelped when Sebastian picked him up and set him easily down on his feet, feeling spontaneous and light as he followed him onto one of the pedestals. It didn't seem to matter at all that it was undignified for the Prince of Arendelle to go flouncing around the castle with a stranger. No one would care on Cooper's coronation day, and he wanted to just live for a change. And if Sebastian had a path in mind, then Blaine wasn't about to correct him.

Then he realized that they were actually climbing higher and Blaine swallowed, gratefully taking Sebastian's hand as he pulled him onto the top balcony. "Wow," he breathed, looking out over Arendelle and yelping again when Sebastian's hands closed under his arms, twirling him around once. "Sebastian!"

"I couldn't help it," Sebastian said, smiling at him in a way that melted Blaine's heart, his indignation quickly turning to joy. "You're radiant when you smile."

Still uncertain with what to do with the full weight of Sebastian's attention on him, Blaine was grateful that Sebastian seemed to know exactly what to say as he stepped back to the tower door and held it open, singing playfully, "Love is an open doooor!"

"Love is an open door - with you," Blaine sang back, hurrying down the tower stairs after him.

"With you," Sebastian challenged, leaning on one of the lower railings and smiling up at him.

"With you!"

"With you!"

Blaine's heart skipped a beat once he realized how close they had come, almost near enough to kiss. It seemed wild and impossible to think that Sebastian could possibly want the same, but there was a mischievous glint in Sebastian's eye that didn't dim as he stayed a moment longer before leading them both the rest of the way down the stairs.

They emerged in one of the castle's empty ballrooms, Sebastian stepping slowly into the grand hall while Blaine hurried after him. With only a moment's hesitation, he bent down and unlaced his boots, carrying them in one hand as he got a running start and slid the rest of the way down the corridor.

"Come on!" he encouraged, almost falling over when Sebastian collided with him a second later, laughing with him as they righted.

"I thought I was the only one who liked to do that," Sebastian admitted, and some of the worry that Blaine had that maybe the first friend he'd made in years wouldn't be impressed by his antics evaporated.

It only took a moment for Blaine to replace his boots and lead the way toward another tower, Sebastian falling into place easily at his side as they emerged on the roof. Creeping to the edge of the balcony and shuffling onto the tiled roof carefully, he patted the space beside him, beaming as he looked up at the stars.

Sebastian whistled as he settled into place beside him, taking in the view and shuffling until he rested hip-to-hip with Blaine, comfortably close. Before Blaine could ask what he was thinking - if his heart was racing half as fast as Blaine's - Sebastian said in an almost sing-song tone, "I mean, it's crazy - "

"What?"

It might have been the alcohol or Blaine's own imagination, but Sebastian's smile seemed to brighten even more as he leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, "We finish each other's - "

"Sandwiches," Blaine proclaimed, delighting in the laugh it startled from Sebastian as he shimmied over onto a different ledge.

"That's what I was gonna say!"

Blaine hummed as he strode backward across the brick path, musing aloud: "I've never met someone - "

"Who thinks so much like me," Sebastian agreed, smiling sweetly just before he said, "Jinx."

"Jinx again!" Blaine laughed, shoving him aside lightly as he almost tripped over an overturned stone, suddenly grateful for Sebastian's steadying hand.

"Our mental synchronization," Sebastian sang.

"Can have but one explanation," Blaine conjoined, swaying with him to an unheard band as they finished together, "you and I were just meant to be!"

Breathless but exhilarated, he burst out, "Say goodbye!"

"Say goodbye to the pain of the past," Sebastian echoed, spinning him out of reach and smiling at him. "We don't have to feel it anymore!"

"Love is an open doooor!"

Blaine's belting tenor didn't unsettle Sebastian in the slightest, encouraging him to put it all out there as they met at the shadowed gate and sang together, "Love is an open doooor!"

They were beyond the castle boundaries, now, and the world felt alight. Blaine didn't even bother to see whether any of the guards had noticed as they slipped away, singing softly into the night, "Life can be so much more with you - "

"With you," Sebastian agreed, joining him on a rocky seat beside the fjord.

"With you," Blaine insisted, laughing when Sebastian stood and pulled him to his own feet.

Lacking any trace of insincerity, Sebastian declared, "With you!"

"Love is an open door."

Blaine would have followed Sebastian to the edge of a cliff in that moment as he took both hands in his and led them carefully backward, eventually releasing one so he could take him to the top of a rocky fountain. Blaine's breath escaped him as he started at the waterfall, leaning against Sebastian to keep from falling into the fjord below.

Standing just at the edge of the spray, able to feel the gentle rise and fall of Sebastian's chest at his back, Blaine could picture spending other summer nights with him on even bolder excursions, maybe at sea like Sebastian wanted, always warm and safe and protected and cared for. He could see them laughing as they told each other old, familiar stories, smiling over their favorite foods and gracing each other with friendly touches whenever possible.

Aching, almost desperate for the companionship and horrified with the awareness that it would end soon enough and Sebastian would leave, he was utterly unprepared when Sebastian gently steered him around so that they were facing each other as Sebastian asked, "Can I say something crazy?"

The depth of promise and emotion and fondness in his gaze took Blaine's breath away, but he still managed a quick, "Of course." As if his heart wasn't pounding, as if the world didn't feel suddenly unsteady with hope and fear and anticipation.

Still holding Blaine's hand tightly, Sebastian dropped to one knee and asked, "Blaine Anderson - will you marry me?"

It was all Blaine could do to lick his lips and stutter out an ecstatic, "Can I say something even crazier? Yes!"

* * *

Sebastian's calm voice carried Blaine back to the castle as they walked slowly, savoring each other's presences. "We'll need the king's blessing for our wedding, of course."

"Of course," Blaine agreed weakly.

Sebastian nudged his shoulder with his own inquisitively and Blaine sighed, explaining, "Cooper and I -- don't have the best relationship. We used to be best friends," he hurried to amend, not wanting to paint a terrible portrait to his fiancé about what his brother was like (and especially not wanting to admit that it was probably his fault that Cooper was so reserved). "Then one day he ... shut me out," he finished lamely. "We haven't spoken much since."

"I can't imagine why he would want to shut you out," Sebastian said.

A smile twitched at the corners of Blaine's lips in spite of himself. "Thanks," he said softly, snapping a twig from one of the low-hanging branches as they walked back to the castle, fiddling with it between his fingers as he let the silence stretch between them. "You know, I never really understood it myself, but - maybe he'll see how wonderful all of this is and forget about it? And we can go back to being friends?"

Sebastian squeezed his hand and Blaine gratefully squeezed it back, shaking his head as he tossed the twig aside. "It's silly, I know. And I know that he'll love you, either way."

Seemingly gratified by the praise, Sebastian didn't speak for a time. They slipped through the castle gates unnoticed, Blaine leading the way back toward the ballroom. Just before they entered the double doors, Sebastian offered, "I could speak with him. Maybe I could persuade him."

Even though Blaine didn't know if it would change Cooper's mind at all, it still loosened some of the tension in his shoulders to know that he wasn't alone. "Thanks, Sebastian," he said seriously, pulling open one of the doors and letting Sebastian precede him into the hallway.

"Your Majesty," one of the servants said, bowing deeply, worry creasing her brow as she added, "we were so worried, we had no idea where you'd - "

"It's all right," Blaine said, restraining a laugh as he took in the three worried faces in front of him. "I was with Prince Sebastian. I'm here now; nothing to worry about." He yelped when Lucy smacked him smartly with her towel, saying, "Hey, what - "

"That's for worrying us," she said primly, turning on her heel before he could respond.

"She's a handful," Sebastian mused as the other two servants quickly departed.

Blaine sighed, making an eloquent gesture with a hand as he preceded Sebastian into the great hall where the ball was being held. It seemed mystic and at once perfectly normal to him, all the couples gathered on the floor as the band beat out a tune in the corner. Approaching the pedestal, he wasn't surprised to see that Cooper had barely moved, only descending to the ground floor to speak with a general and his wife.

"King Cooper," Blaine said, knowing that the title would grab his attention if nothing else. He wasn't disappointed when Cooper apologized to the couple and turned to him, gaze impassive but strained, an unspoken emotion stirring underneath his lukewarm smile. Blaine almost inquired about it - almost putting Sebastian aside and pulled Cooper to a quieter corner to ask what was wrong - before steeling himself as Cooper did the same.

He waited until Cooper had deigned to join them, Sebastian standing tall and regal as ever, of a height with Cooper. Blaine felt suddenly small compared to both of them, shaking his head a little to himself as he looped his arm through Sebastian's. One of Cooper's eyebrows arched in surprise at the boldness of the gesture; Blaine couldn't blame him, aware that politics dictated every movement that Cooper made. Seizing the arm of his companion so assuredly had to set off some warning bell or another in Cooper's head, and Blaine was about to release Sebastian's arm when Sebastian spoke.

"King Cooper," he said, bowing partially as Cooper's gaze shifted to him before landing back on Blaine, scouring. "We would like - "

"We want to ask your blessing for our marriage," Blaine blurted out, fearful that he wouldn't respond.

It had seemed like such a magnificent idea in the open air under the stars; standing front of Cooper, it couldn't have seemed more implausible that he would support any of Blaine's endeavors, his surprise quickly morphing into coldness.

Refusing to be daunted by it, Blaine said, "We could have the wedding here. We could invite all twelve of your brothers to stay with us!" He turned to Sebastian in delight at the thought of having so many other people living semi-permanently with them. Of course, they would all leave once the ceremonies were wrapped up, but at least there would be people to fill the empty halls again, and maybe they would bring their ladies along so they could have another ball, and they would conjure a band and fine food and chocolate -

"No."

Blaine blinked, almost unable to process what he was hearing. "I'm sorry?"

"No one's inviting anyone to the castle because no one is getting married," Cooper said.

The horrible sinking feeling in Blaine's chest made him want to retch, but he held his ground enough to say, "Coop - "

"Enough," Cooper bit out with finality, stepping away from them and walking toward the center of the crowd. "If you'll excuse me - "

"Your Majesty," Sebastian began, all resolution and imploring inquisitiveness, "if I may have a private audience with you - "

"No, you will not be having a private audience with anyone," Cooper said firmly, directing the full of his gaze upon them both before turning to a guard and saying brusquely, "Shut the gates. The party's over. I want the hall cleared out by - "

For ten years, Blaine had held his tongue when the swell of anger and frustration threatened to burst through him. He'd stepped back instead of slamming his fists against the door that Cooper had put up between them, knowing that his fingers would bleed before Cooper would concede. He had endured the lonely nights, the powerlessness, the crippling hangover of exhaustion and grief when their parents died alone.

And then Cooper attempted to extinguish the one source of happiness that he'd had in years, and his temper snapped.

"What are you so afraid of?" he demanded, not caring that he was drawing eyes from every angle as Cooper's shoulders tensed and his pace quickened as he moved away from Blaine. Sebastian stood silent at his side as though stricken, not holding Blaine back as he advanced toward Cooper, rage boiling near the surface. "Why do you keep shutting me out, Cooper? What did I ever do to you?"

"Enough," Cooper said, low and controlled, and hatred ran so close to the surface that Blaine almost lunged for him, almost tore the magnificent cloak from his shoulders and ripped the crown from his white hair.

"Why won't you talk to me anymore? What did I do?"

Cooper didn't respond, murmuring to a guard - something that sounded suspiciously like have the prince escorted away for some time alone - and whether it was conspiracy to Blaine's ears alone or truth, it didn't matter.

He lunged, fingers closing around one of Cooper's perfect white gloves and yanking it off.

He didn't know what he expected underneath, but the smooth, fine, unblemished skin seemed to mock him further. He'd half-expected some monstrous deformity to be lurking underneath the surface and to have driven Cooper into shameful hiding. To see the truth revealed inflamed his anger to a new pitch, and he could see the mixed emotions in Cooper's eyes as he turned to face him.

"Give it back," Cooper demanded, his voice low and uncolored, devoid of all emotion.

"Why? What does it matter? Why won't you talk to me?" Blaine side-stepped when Cooper attempted to take the glove, aware that they were creating a spectacle and not caring, so tired of putting on a brave face and pretending nothing ever hurt that he couldn't do anythingbut bleed the hurt. "Tell me what it means, Cooper."

"Give me back my glove," Cooper said in a thunderous voice, his anger so close to the surface that Blaine expected him to strike him right there.

He wouldn't have ducked. It felt horrible and deflating at once to realize that he would rather be struck than ignored again, seemingly for all eternity by a brother that never wanted him, by a brother perfectly content to spend his days alone and in peace and solitude, undisturbed by the outside world.

"No," he said, and there were tears in his eyes that he wouldn't let fall, there was a wavering in his voice that he dared not let prevail as he stepped closer to Cooper, suddenly pushing his luck as far as he could, desperate for a response, any response. "Tell me why you hid away, tell me why you're doing this, tell me what I did wrong?"

"I said enough," Cooper said threateningly.

"It's never going to be enough, Cooper!" It was only then that Blaine realized the entire hall had fallen silent, band included, as he stepped toward Cooper. "Why can't you see that? Coop, please," he said, clutching his glove like a lifeline, "please don't shut me out again."

Cooper's gaze didn't waver and his jaw remained tense and unyielding.

Blaine could almost feel every piece of his heart shatter as he said, "I can't keep living like this."

"Then leave," Cooper bit out, and the ultimatum was so harsh it slapped Blaine in the face, staggering him without ever touching him.

"Coop - "

"Enough. Close the gates," he said forcefully, turning to a wide-eyed guard who only nodded in response, hurrying back to the others to execute the order.

Blaine wanted to slump to the floor in defeat, his resolve weakening as sorrow threatened to burn a hole through his heart. Cooper didn't want him; Cooper hated him; Cooper wanted him to leave -

Throwing everything he had in one final push, Blaine pleaded, "Whatever it is, Cooper, we'll work it out. We can fix this. It can be like this all the time, we can - "

"No. It can't."

"Why not?" Blaine demanded, exasperation bleeding through his tone. "Why can't it be like this?"

"It just - can't," Cooper stated, shoulders slumping as he turned away, cape fluttering behind himself.

Somewhere, Blaine knew, the gates to the castle were being cleared so they could close, and with them his whole life - misery and loneliness and all - was being crushed into itself once more.

"You don't want to do this," he pressed, gaining momentum as he gained ground, barely ten feet from Cooper's rapidly retreating form. "You can't do this, Cooper - you're a king!"

"I know who I am," Cooper barked, whirling around to face him. "Leave me alone."

"No," Blaine ejected forcefully. "Not until you explain what's going on. You're my brother, Coop. Can't you just act like one?"

Cooper worked his jaw in wordless considerable, and Blaine seized the pause to step forward even as Cooper inched back. "Don't come any closer," he warned.

"Why are you doing this? What did I do, what was so horrible that it - "

"Back away," Cooper snapped, angry and afraid, curling his arms around his chest.

Blaine could sense that he was breaking and he pressed his advantage, knowing that if he let Cooper shut the door behind him, then he might never open it again. "What are you so afraid of? What could possibly be worse than this? Cooper, we can't live like this. I can't live like this. Tell me what's wrong, tell me what happened so we can fix it - "

"I said enough!"

Blaine had just enough time to stagger back as a wall of six-foot-long icicles sprung from the floor, surging forward and bearing needle-sharp points in a semi-circle around Cooper. Blaine's hands were shaking as he realized how close he had come to being impaled on the nearest glistening spires, his gaze sliding over the icy points to meet Cooper's.

He'd never seen him look so pale and terrified, his free hand clutching convulsively at his gloved hand, his eyes scanning the crowd as horrified gasps and screams threatened to overtake the whole hall.

"I knew it," Clarington declared loudly from one corner, "I knew there was sorcery afoot." He and his guards quickly disappeared through one of the side doors.

Those words seemed to kick Cooper into action as he turned and flailed for the handle of the door, wrenching it open and ignoring the concerned queries of the guards as he disappeared through them.

"Cooper," Blaine breathed, reaching out to almost touch one of the icicles before retracting his hand, afraid.

"You should go after him," Sebastian urged softly, squeezing his shoulder and meeting Blaine's gaze with the sort of worried solidarity that Blaine needed, then. "I don't know what's going on, but - you should go after him."

Blaine nodded jerkily, giving the icicles a wide berth as he hurried out the door, heart beating too loud, heart in his throat, head about to explode from the surrealism of it all.

I can't do this, he thought, suddenly overwhelmed by it all, wanting to curl into a ball and weep for joy or sorrow or somewhere in between. He's magical. He's powerful. That's why he hid away.

It was the only conclusion that he could allow himself to think as he slid to a halt outside the main door, the scene of chaos unfolding before him making his heart clench.

"Everything is all right," he declared in his most placating tone. "King Cooper needs a moment, but everything is fine." Aware that every gaze was upon him as he carefully descended the stairs - slick with ice; how powerful was Cooper? - and emerged in the center of the crowd. "He's not dangerous," he told them softly. "He's scared."

"A frightened horse can do just as much damage as an angry one," one of the men informed him.

"He's not a horse; he's a king," Blaine reminded him, holding his cloak tighter to himself. "I won't let him hurt anyone."

"And how do we know that you're not dangerous?"

Clarington - of course it was Clarington - stepped forward, gaze accusing and laden with expectation. He wanted Blaine to slip up, wanted to seize the opportunity if he did, and Blaine's anger boiled close to the surface before he tamped it back down and insisted calmly, "I'm completely ordinary."

"And how are we supposed to know that?" Clarington demanded.

"I can assure you, he's completely ordinary," Sebastian said - and Blaine would have slumped in relief if decorum had allowed it - as he placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "In the best way," he added, and Blaine's heart melted a little in spite of himself.

"Where did he go?" Blaine asked the crowds.

Distant answers of this way reached his ears before Blaine took off, excusing himself even as the crowd parted to accommodate him.

His breath turned heavy with exertion before he saw a cape fluttering in the distance, redoubling his efforts as he slipped over one of the rocks and almost crashed into the fjord. "Easy, Your Grace," Sebastian said, catching him.

"You have impeccable timing," Blaine thanked him, struggling to his feet and hurrying down the rocky steps. "Cooper!" he shouted, the figure whirling to face him, tremors visible even from this height. Then, straightening, Cooper drew in a deep breath even as Blaine struggled over another rocky step and stepped onto the fjord.

Ice formed under his feet and Cooper took another careful step into the water. Before Blaine had descended three more stairs, Cooper took off at a full sprint, trusting the ice to catch him each time. Breathless with fear that he would slip and fall into the now-freezing water, Blaine could only sink to his knees on the bank just as Cooper reached the opposite side.

Rather than halting as their maker disappeared into the woods, the ice continued to spread rapidly across the fjord, freezing everything in sight. Blaine's breath punched out of him in a mixture of horror and awe as he watched, snow beginning to drift around him. Holding up a palm to catch a flake, he let Sebastian pull him to his feet, brow creased in a mixture of worry and confusion.

"We have to get back to the castle," he said softly, and Blaine was grateful for his clear-headedness, nodding along as they made their way slowly up the side of the cliff.

I have to go after him, he realized, long before he reached the village square.

Even with Sebastian's warm arm around his shoulders, Blaine felt the winter chill to his bones.

I have to go after him.


	7. Chapter 7

Gods be good, what have I done?

The snow was falling steadily by the time Cooper slowed to a walk, his breath misting in front of him as his legs trembled with exhaustion. He longed to find a nice cave to collapse in for a few hours and let the snow bury him, shielding him from the scrutiny that he was bound to face upon his return, but there was nowhere to hide in the barren landscape. The trees were at his back, only mountains ahead and mountains to either side.

Ignoring the ache in his limbs, Cooper pressed onward, cloak swirling around him as the wind fought him for every step. It flapped around his heels as the wind pushed it against him, threatening to upset his footing as he inched up the mountainside.

A violent gust of wind almost tore it clean off his shoulders. With a snarl of frustration, he burst into a run again, refusing to be deterred by the storm and knowing that he couldn't turn back until he had it until control.

Through sheer force of will, if nothing else, he would contain it; he had to. He couldn't leave Arendelle forever. He was king, and no amount of unnatural resistance could keep him from his rightful seat as ruler. It was his duty, his utmost priority, and the only way that he'd been able to fulfill his commitment to protecting and serving the people of Arendelle was to remove himself from their midst.

He didn't know what sort of monster he'd become if he tried to fight the storm in the midst of hundreds of people. His stomach churned with the visual reminders of the wall of ice that he'd flung around himself like a shield in the middle of the ballroom, pushed beyond reason, beyond control. Fingers flexing convulsively over his ungloved hand, he almost fell to his knees, breathing raggedly in the darkness as he willed the powers to come back to him, to quiet, to fade, to fall away.

Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show.

The mantra slowly calmed the shaking in his hands, his steady breathing the only sound that mattered. He could still feel the snow drifting around him, but it was less violent, a peaceful presence in the abyss. Looking up, he almost swayed on his feet with the realization that he had caused the heavy snows to blanket the lower mountainous regions prematurely. At the height of Arendelle's summer, they should have been wooded and warm; covered in frost, they seemed very cold and unyielding, a glistening sheet of white greeting his gaze in every direction.

Looking upward instead, he saw the steep black tops of the mountains, isolated and untouched. There was a certain peace to the open space, a quiet certitude in his bones that he was in a safe haven, a pocket of sanity that he could dwell in as long as he pleased.

Arendelle was alive and energetic and vulnerable to him, but the mountains were cool and timeless and impenetrable.

And then he knew with a sudden, soul-deep certainty that he couldn't go back.

"The snow glows white on the mountains tonight, not a footprint to be seen," he sang softly, entranced by the audacity of it and unable to keep his feet from moving forward, the winds dying down around him as he did so. "A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like - " He drew in a breath, looking back over his shoulder at his castle beyond the treeline, his home, before finishing obstinately, "I'm the king."

Treading forward slowly, he drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders, unneeded with the winds only tugging lightly at its edges. Before he made it ten paces, an unexpected gust almost ripped the flaps apart as the ache in his heart deepened. "The snow is howling like this swirling storm inside," he groaned, clutching his hands to his chest because he couldn't do this. He couldn't leave them. "Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried."

He almost turned back, then, frozen in place, torn between his fate and his future. He was king of Arendelle, he had the crown in his hair and the loyalty of his people to prove it, the cloak upon his shoulder and the ceremony itself a mere formality. He was meant to rule them in his parents' place, but he could only further endanger them by remaining, his powers would only grow worse with time until no human was safe around him.

He had a duty to protect and a duty to serve, conflicting notions that almost drove him to his knees until:

Blaine will take care of them.

As quickly as it crested over him, his trepidation receded, falling back as he repeated to himself, awestruck by its simplicity: Blaine will take care of everything.

The relief that he felt was tempered by sobriety that he was leaving the fate of his kingdom in Blaine's hands. It wasn't his kingdom, though, and it never had been. It was theirs, their duty to bear, their burden to share, and Cooper felt almost lightheaded with the realization that he could go.

Squaring his shoulders, he marched into the snow, gaining momentum as he sang to none but the gods and the mountains themselves, "Don't let them in, don't let them see, be the good boy you always have to be, conceal, don't feel, don't let them know!"

Reaching down for his glove - his one last key to everything he had known, to the world that he had cherished for so long, the demons of his past that he had fought forever - he seized the slim fabric and yanked it off his arm, casting it into the wind as he shouted, "Well, now they knoooow!"

Extending a hand and drawing in a deep breath, he let loose a shower of snowflakes with a delighted grin, singing softly, "Let it go - let it go - can't hold it back anymore." He tilted his hands almost jauntily to each side, sending flurries of coordinated swirls into the air above him, almost giddy with his own power.

"Let it go! Let it go. Turn away and slam the door!"

His fingers seemed to dance to their own rhythm as he cast flurry after flurry into the air, a series of snowballs coalescing into a familiar snowman before his eyes. It brought a nostalgic smile to his lips as he walked past it, only having eyes for the closest mountain as he marched onward, throwing his challenge to the wind as he sang, "I don't caaare what they're going to say. Let the storm rage on." Then, with a huff that was almost a laugh, he unfastened his cloak and admitted, "The cold never bothered me anyway."

Pace increasing as he marched up the slope of one of the snowbanks unhindered by the extra fabric, he mused, "It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small." Letting off steam in the form of snowflakes, he turned and looked over the steep summits in the distance, relief washing over him as he proclaimed, "And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all!"

Running towards the top of the slope that he was standing upon, he felt the buzz in his veins and the tension rushing through him, a powder keg waiting to be ignited. Coming to a halt in front of a cliff, he didn't falter, stepping forward and grinning as ice fanned away from his foot, forming a crude platform for a staircase. "It's time to see what I can do," he murmured, reaching out to grasp the edge of the railing and feeling a rush of excitement as sleek ice replaced the half-formed snow, gripping it firmly between his fingers as he continued, "to test the limits and break through - no right, no wrong, no rules for me - I'm free!"

He broke into a run, trusting fate, the wind, and his own powers to catch him as the staircase of his imagination sprang into existence, a joyous exultation escaping him as he sang, "Let it go, let it go, I am one with the wind and sky! Let it go, let it go, you'll never see me cry!"

Cresting the staircase and emerging onto a platform of stone and rock below, he felt the rightness of the place as he moved toward the center, all but leaping onto it as he declared, "Here I stand and here I'll stay. Let the storm rage on."

Ice fanned out from where he stood in six directions, smooth, flawless streams joining at the edges, forming a single hexagonal shape that began to rise even as he, dizzy with his own power, stood back and let it happen. The structure began to rise and he lifted his own hands with it, knowing that he could control this, at least, as he closed his eyes and mapped out the pillars, the walls, the floor beneath him through memory and desire alone, opening them and gazing with fondness as the ice raced to meet his expectations.

"My power flurries through the air into the ground," he sang, willing his fantasy to life as the castle began to take shape around him. "My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around." The roof took shape above him, a chandelier springing to life underneath it as Cooper tilted his head back in awe to watch, amazed at the transformation already. "And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast," he mused, admiring the splendor of it all and then himself. Still clad in his formal Arendelle attire with his crown seated in his hair, he felt a rush of rebellion course through him as he seized the crown in hand and declared, "I'm never going back - " and, sweeping it off to one side, he lobbed it as far as he could, out of sight, out of mind forever as he sang, "the past is in the past!"

Then, looking down at himself, he breathed in deeply and extended his arms, willing the ice to obey as he crowed, "Let it go, let it go, and I'll rise like the break of dawn. Let it go, let it go, that perfect boy is gone."

Sashaying out onto the balcony of his own ice palace as the dawn slowly peeked at the horizon, he proclaimed for all the world to hear, "Here I stand in the light of day. Let the storm rage on!"

Then, looking down at himself, he mused again, marveling at his own creations, "The cold never bothered me anyway."

The icy door fell shut behind him with a satisfying thud, leaving him alone in his palace, alone and quiet and for once, finally, free.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


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